Serial Killer
by shann1
Summary: Gotham's newest killer targets criminals and his most wanted prey is the Scarecrow. While Crane is forced to turn to the Joker, a crazy blond psychiatrist and a mystery woman, the Gotham police are forced to bring in Detective Edward'the Riddler'Nashton.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Batman nor do I make any money off of this._

_A/N: This is not for the faint of heart. It will contain the kind of extreme violence and darkness that The Dark Knight hinted at. However, it is integral to the plot and the object is to show the effects of this kind of violence, not to glorify it. Reviews, questions and comments are greatly appreciated._

Serial Killer

Jonathan Crane sat in the rec-room at Arkham Asylum, looking up at the TV though not really paying attention. He was alone except for the two guards standing in front of the door- the powers upstairs had decided that Crane should not be allowed to mingle with the other prisoners. Though he doubted it was out of fear for his safety. He'd heard through the grapevine that the only other prisoner afforded such special privileges was the Joker. A wistful, yet somehow sinister, smile slid across his face. That was a pity. Crane would love the chance to try probing through the Joker's thoughts. _There _was an interesting man. One who loves to push the limits of people's emotions, people's _fear_, as much as he does.

One of the guards spoke up, "Five more minutes, doctor."

Crane showed no change in his expression, but the guard's words triggered that dark and angry place within him. The lesser man's voice when he had said "doctor" was clearly meant to be insulting. He turned to look at the guard with that cool, blank expression until the other began to twitch slightly. The guard looked like he was about ready to say something, when the jarring sound of 'Special News Bulletin' music came on. Crane calmly turned back to the TV. The 'Special News Bulletins' in Gotham had gotten significantly more interesting as of late. He raised the volume as the newscaster began to speak.

_"It has just been reported that the remains of at least ten men were found brutally butchered in a warehouse near the east end of the Gotham docks. While the police are trying to keep the murders quiet, it is rumored that the crime is mob related. One source, who prefers to remain anonymous, believes the slaughter is connected to the murders of three men last week. All the victims were either well-known criminals or men suspected of criminal activity. All of the men were armed with guns. What makes these crimes so unusual is that the perpetrator, or more likely, perpetrators, somehow killed their victims armed only with knives. Is this the beginning of a mob war? How did men armed with knives so easily murder men armed with guns? Is the Batman somehow involved? We will keep you informed of any new breaking developments. Be safe and goodnight."_

Crane sat back in his seat and gave an unpleasant smile. For all of Batman's efforts and sacrifice, the city was still is deadly and depraved as ever. He knew he'd have to wait patiently but the urge to immerse himself in all the fear and panic was almost overwhelming.

"Time to go, Crane." With a little more roughness than necessary the rude guard yanked him up by the arm and began tying the straightjacket arms behind him again. If the guard thought he'd impress the Scarecrow with a show of brute force he was sorely mistaken. Crane kept his face expressionless as he was shoved out the door. Walking towards them was the Joker flanked by three nervous looking guards. Crane debated in his head if the lack of make-up made Joker look less frightening or more. At least with the make-up you could imagine the scars were fake; without it they were revealed in all their gruesome glory.

The Joker gave him a cheerful smile. "Hello, Dr. Scarecrow."

Crane felt the guards around them tense, and he gave the Joker a smaller, saner smile in return. He managed to lean toward the other criminal slightly as they moved by, despite the guards yanking both in opposite directions. "You'll love the news tonight."

The two guards holding him yanked him violently away from Joker, confused by his words and worried there was some sinister hidden meaning. Crane started to laugh, just to really get them into a panic, just to remind the guards how pathetic and superficial their toughness really was. The Joker understood. He started laughing, too, even as his guards all but threw him into the rec-room and slammed the door. With the Joker out of sight, Crane straightened up and became completely calm again.

"Shall we go, gentleman?"

He could feel the guards trembling all the way to his cell.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bruce Wayne sat in the cave and stared at the police photos from the crime scenes. Commissioner Gordon had managed to sneak copies of them for Batman without anyone else knowing. When the news had described it as a slaughter, they weren't kidding. Even scanned and magnified by his high tech computers the images were too grainy to tell exactly what kind of weapon had been used against the victims. The severed limbs and spilled guts all over the floor suggested the weapon would've had to be a lot bigger than an ordinary knife. It could be anything from a machete, to an ax or even a sword. If the pictures were clearer he'd be able to rule out the ax fairly easily; the cuts left by an ax would be a lot less clean than a sword or machete. Of course, if there was more than one perpetrator, it could easily be all three.

Bruce rubbed his eyes. The news bulletin had been right to hint at a possible gang war. The three men from last week were from one of the most powerful crime families in Gotham city, while the eleven men from last night had been from a newer, rival group. The news had mentioned at least ten victims and they were pretty close. The total count of dead bodies was eleven. What the news hadn't reported was that there was one survivor, making the total number of men at the meeting twelve. Of course, Gordon was being as quiet as possible about dealing with the witness; for fear that the killers would hunt him down. From what the commissioner told him the criminals didn't need to fear his testimony. The witness wasn't more than a kid, and the sight of the massacre had traumatized him badly. The police had found him hiding behind a few crates, curled in the fetal position. Gordon told him the only thing the kid would mutter was "I promise to be good", over and over.

The police had been able to identify most of the victims and the commissioner had given him all the names. With the exception of the kid, whose worst previous offence was a non-violent mugging, the rest were hardened criminals. Each one had at least one murder charge on their records and most were accused of other violent crimes as well, including rape, kidnapping and torture.

He heard Alfred stepping up behind him. "Still at it, Master Bruce?"

"The kid's a clue."

Alfred looked up at the mug shot of young man, still in his teens, and his police profile. "You mean the only survivor?"

Bruce shook his head, "He didn't survive, Alfred. He was spared." He finally turned away from the image to look at Alfred. "There's no way that eleven far more experienced, far more violent criminals could be completely slaughtered and yet some kid with hardly any experience managed to hide." Bruce looked up at the picture again. "The survivor was caught. Gordon mentioned he had some pretty bad bruises, so he was probably beaten, but he wasn't cut up like the others."

"Perhaps he got lucky and disarmed his attacker. Or maybe the attacker had lost his weapon fighting with someone else?"

Bruce frowned, "I had thought of that too, but it would mean that there was only one perpetrator. A group of guys armed with blades winning against a group of guys with guns is far-fetched enough. Just one guy is…"

"You've managed well enough without a gun, sir." Alfred's voice was quiet.

Bruce sighed and looked up, "You're right, I shouldn't ignore the possibility that there's only one killer. But I still find it strange that the kid was spared. It seems too coincidental that the killer got through eleven men but lost his weapon before he managed to kill his last victim." 

The butler sighed. He had to agree with Bruce about that. "Perhaps you should rest on it awhile, sir. It may help you approach things from a fresh perspective."

Bruce looked at the picture one last time, then stood up and followed Alfred upstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own Batman nor do I make any money off of this._

_A/N: For those readers not familiar with the comic, and know The Riddler mainly from cartoons and/or the Schumacher movie, his real name is Edward Nashton. Edward Nigma (sometimes spelled Nygma) is actually an alias that the Riddler chose when he started crime. I have chosen to keep that concept, however, some of his background is being adjusted for the purpose of this story and to hopefully fit realistically into the Nolan universe._

Serial Killer

Commissioner Gordon sat at his desk and stared down at the piles of folders and envelopes scattered across it. He rubbed his forehead in frustration. Somewhere in this mess was the file folder he needed for a meeting, which would be happening in less than ten minutes. The Gotham City Police Department had taken a lot of losses thanks to the Joker's rampage and the escalating crime that happened in its wake. Gordon had been forced to turn to his contacts in the police departments of neighboring cities to see if they could transfer any experienced officers or detectives. Not surprisingly, most were very reluctant to make the move to Gotham. Luckily, one of his contacts, Police Chief Harris of the nearby city of Bolton, had actually been able to find a detective within his department willing to make the transfer. After the treachery within Gordon's own ranks, which led to the downfall of Harvey Dent, the commissioner had vowed to himself to screen all candidates for the Gotham P.D. personally. Unfortunately, Gordon was going to have a hard time interviewing the potential new detective without his personal file.

"Should I come back later, sir?"

Commissioner Gordon looked up to see a young man in the doorway, watching him with a slightly amused expression.

Gordon shook his head and stood up, "No, no. Please, come in. You must be Detective Edward Nashton."

The younger man smiled warmly, entering the room and offering his hand to the commissioner. They shook hands then Gordon gestured to the chair in front of his desk while returning to his own seat.

"Sorry about the mess. I'm afraid there's still a bit of disorganization around here thanks to the damage the station took during the Joker incident."

The detective gave him a sympathetic smile, "I imagine cleaning your office would be a rather low priority in the face of everything else Gotham City P.D. must be going through right now."

Gordon shook his head. "Still, it doesn't help matters when I can't find anything on my own desk."

Nashton's eyes seemed to be doing a quick scan of the room, before falling on the commissioner's breakfast, a cup of coffee and half-eaten donut. Gordon's eyes followed his, "Skipped breakfast today?"

A little smirk slid onto Nashton's face. "Actually, sir, I couldn't help but notice the file underneath it."

Gordon did a double take and gave his brain a kick. He'd put his coffee and donut right on top of Nashton's file, and it was Nashton himself who noticed. The young detective chuckled while Gordon moved the food and opened the file. _Good job, Jim, way to make a great first impression of the police department. _

However, when the commissioner looked up at Nashton's face there was nothing but sympathetic good humor. In a way Gordon almost wished Nashton wasn't so friendly, having read the younger man's file earlier he knew he'd have to ask some rather uncomfortable questions and he didn't want to sour the detective's mood.

Gordon took a deep breath, "First off, detective, I'd like to thank you for your offer to join Gotham P.D. As I told Police Chief Harris, we're pretty strapped for officers and detectives with experience at the moment. Unfortunately, part of the reason for that is because of some corruption scandals within the force. We managed to fix a lot of that with Harvey Dent's help but after his untimely death and the terrorism caused by the Joker, things have gotten a bit messy again."

"Which is why you're carefully screening potential new members to the force." Nashton's voice became a little softer, "I know you have a lot of questions about my past, and I know you won't feel comfortable around me until you get answers. So please, feel free to ask me anything."

Gordon took a breath, "Well, your file gives a lot of detail about your past criminal record, your rehabilitation and even your current medication. But I also know that it was Police Chief Harris who put this together and sent it."

Nashton frowned slightly, "Isn't that typical police protocol?"

Gordon nodded, "Yes, it is. And like I said, it's very detailed. I guess what I'm trying to say, is that I'd like to hear your story from your own mouth, in your own words. I don't expect you to tell me anything new- that's not the point. It's just for me to get a better sense of you as a person."

Nashton was quiet for a moment, as though taking his time to process what the commissioner had said. Then he looked up. "Where would you like me to start?"

The commissioner leaned forward and clasped his hands together on his desk. "How did it happen? What went off inside your brain that finally caused you to snap?"

Nashton's eyes narrowed, "Are you sure it's my mind you're interested in Commissioner? Because the way you're wording it…"

Gordon cut him off, "You're right, I'm sorry. I've just seen a lot of good people gone bad lately and…I just want so badly to understand why."

Nashton relaxed slightly, "I can speak for no one but myself, Commissioner. I can try my best to tell you what happened all those years ago, but my case was far from typical."

Gordon nodded, "I know, detective. Please, tell me what you can."

Nashton took a breath, "Well, as you've probably read in my file, my mother died when I was very young. I can hardly remember her. My father raised me, but we never got along; our personalities were completely opposite. After my arrest he loudly told the jury the only reason he kept me around was to do the chores." Nashton gave a small smirk, "I apologize if this next part sounds a bit arrogant, but there's no way I can tell the story without mentioning it.

"Part of what caused the rift between my father and I was the fact that I was so much smarter than him. I remember being a very small child and bringing home a perfect test -oh I couldn't have been more than five- and him giving me a beating. He called me a cheater. I never willingly showed him my marks again. But there was a stubborn part of me that refused to dampen my intellect so I continued to do my best in school. I was obsessed with learning and spent most of my free time at the library. For years I managed to do well without getting too much attention from my father. Unfortunately, one day a naïve but well meaning teacher called him up and told him that she thought I should be pushed up a grade, told him that I was a genius. My father slammed the phone down on her and began ranting about me being a liar and a cheater. For a few weeks I'd pushed it out of my mind, but then my teacher challenged my class to a contest. We had to solve a puzzle game, and whoever was the fastest won a prize. I was sure I could win, and went home excitedly waiting for the next day to arrive. But as I waited I began to think of what my father so often told me, that I wasn't really smart. I lay in bed for hours, unable to sleep, until about one in the morning. My very first crime was breaking into the school that night to practice solving the game until I was sure no one else could beat me."

Gordon shook his head sadly, "Breaking and entering to win a contest you probably would've won anyways. Your file said you were only ten years old."

Nashton nodded, "It was probably because I was only ten years old that made it seem like a good idea. Besides, I was desperate. For once in my life I wanted to win something and I did. My prize was a book of riddles and I spent hours in my room, reading and re-reading it. Eventually I began to think up my own, using knowledge I got from books I borrowed from the library. I was quite happy with that for over a year."

Nashton went quiet, staring off, lost in his own memories. Gordon leaned back, giving the other man some space. The commissioner knew what happened next, he understood that the younger detective was uncomfortable, but for some reason he felt compelled to push Nashton to continue. The detective wasn't Harvey Dent. Understanding Nashton's story probably wouldn't help Gordon understand the fall of the D.A. any better, but… "What drove you away from that?"

The detective turned his attention back to the commissioner. He frowned slightly and Gordon could practically hear the wheels in the younger man's head turning. Gordon had already admitted to knowing Nashton's history from his file, and the detective was probably beginning to wonder if this was some kind of test.

Nashton remained tense but at last he continued, "My father and I had a particularly bad fight. I can't remember what it was about any more, but it must've been pretty violent. At some point I lost consciousness. When I woke up, my room was a disaster and I was in a lot of pain. My father had beaten me before, but never so badly that I was knocked out. For the first time, it occurred to me that my father could kill me. You have to understand, I was only a very young boy and I honestly thought I was going to die, Commissioner.

"And the only way out I could think of was to make enough money to runaway."

Gordon nodded, "But unlike most kids who turn to crime, you were a genius."

Nashton gave a faint smile, "Countless hours solving puzzles had to be useful for something. I applied the same basic skills I used for those to do things like override security systems and unlock safes. But I didn't want to actually hurt anyone so I tried not to steal too much from each store. For months I evaded the Bolton City police, stealing from a wide variety of stores, leaving riddles and signing them E. Nygma…"

Gordon frowned and leaned forward, "Why _did_ you leave the riddles?"

Nashton shrugged, "I don't really know, to be honest. My very first true crime, not including the puzzle break-in, I felt the compulsion to leave something and a riddle just popped into my head. After that I left a riddle no matter what, even if I didn't want to, even if I could hear the police sirens and I was terrified of getting caught. Most of the people dealing with my case at the time agreed that part of me must have wanted to be caught, but on top of that compulsion was an addiction to the challenge. Chief Harris, well Lt. Harris at the time, was the first person to realize this. He'd managed to get better and better at my riddles and also pinned down the general area of most of my crimes. Harris had all of the owners of stores he thought I might break into leave a riddle he wrote next to the cash register. He knew I wouldn't be able to resist solving it even with police patrols scouring the area. That's how he caught me."

Gordon gave a knowing smile, "Was he surprised?"

Nashton's previous warmth returned and he smiled, too. "That a twelve year old boy had managed to baffle the police department for months? Surprised is one way to put it."

Gordon pictured what the look on Harris' face must've been like when he saw a kid was behind all the crimes. He chuckled, "I take it he was impressed, too."

Nashton nodded, "It was certainly an interesting ride to the police station. I confessed everything the moment he sat me down in the interrogation room. He asked me why I did it and I told him the same thing I've just told you. We continued to talk for hours." Nashton shrugged, "He supported me throughout my trial, and due to my age and the minimal amount of damage my crimes cost, I only spent a couple months in juvenile hall. The trial ended up costing my father custody over me."

"Have you seen him since?"

Nashton shook his head, "No. I realize that maybe I should be upset about that but I'm not. While I was in juvenile hall Harris visited me and told me that he and his wife couldn't have children of their own and wanted to take me in as foster parents. They worked really hard to try making up for my previous life and they're far more real to me as parents than my actual father ever was." Nashton paused his eyes searching Gordon's face, "Is there anything else you'd like to know, sir?"

It was Gordon's turn to shake his head. Part of him wanted to ask Nashton about his medication, but Gordon realized the younger man had already dug up enough painful memories. Besides, the details and reasons for Nashton's meds were all clearly laid out in his file and hassling Nashton about that after everything else he'd already told the commissioner seemed rude.

"That won't be necessary, detective. Thank you for honesty." He leaned back and smiled, "I'm sure you have some questions of your own, though."

A sudden spark seemed to go through the young detective and Gordon could almost feel the intensity of all that intellect being fully directed at him. "I've done as much research as I could on the, shall we say, _unique_ criminal atmosphere of Gotham City, sir, but I'd love to hear your own theories on the crime here."

Gordon raised an eyebrow, "Anything specific?"

"The Batman. I'm fascinated by the Joker and Dr. Crane as well, but with them safe behind bars, Batman is by far the more pressing issue."

The commissioner was proud of himself for keeping his face neutral. He'd expected Nashton to be curious and had thought carefully about how he'd answer the detective's questions. "Unfortunately, the information you've read about in the papers is pretty much all we have on the Batman at this time."

Nashton frowned slightly and Gordon had a sinking feeling that the young detective knew he was lying. Of course, Nashton wouldn't dare call him on it; he didn't want to sour his relationship with Gordon before he was even officially part of the Gotham P.D. It suddenly occurred to Gordon how backward that thought was. Nashton was a rising star within his own police department in Bolton, his foster father the police chief, a series of highly successful cases making him a hero with the Bolton public. Gotham P.D. needed Detective Edward Nashton far more than he needed them.

Nashton's expression didn't change but Gordon had a feeling that the younger man had a good idea of what he was thinking. At the same time, he wasn't willing to jeopardize his connection to Batman by giving too much information.

"Detective, remember how I said earlier that there were a lot of scandals that the police department was trying to overcome?"

The frown eased off Nashton's face, "Yes, you said it was…messy."

Gordon nodded, "Exactly. One of the major issues at the heart of that problem is Batman. While the official view of the Gotham P.D. is that Batman was responsible for several murders, not everyone agrees. After the incident with Dr. Crane attempting to poison the city's water supply, Gotham P.D. had made an alliance with Batman. However, during the Joker incident something went wrong, people died mysteriously and the Joker wasn't connected to the crimes. The Batman became a major suspect and many people felt he must've been the killer."

"But you disagree."

Gordon shrugged, "I'm not about to tear this police force apart to protect a potential murderer."

Nashton rubbed his chin for a moment, deep in thought. "I understand, sir. It is an awkward position for you to be in and I will be careful to treat the issue delicately."

Gordon gave a sigh of relief, "Thank you detective." He stood up. "Now would you still like a tour of the place?"

Nashton's warm smile returned and he stood up too, "Of course."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Frank Garnet stared out the window of his luxury apartment, holding a tumbler full of the finest whisky money could buy. Behind him stood his top advisor, waiting patiently for him to give instructions. Frank took another slow sip and finally turned around.

"Have all the arrangements been made?"

The other man nodded, "Yes, sir. There was one small glitch in the plans, but it has been effectively eliminated."

Frank frowned, "What small glitch was that?"

"There was a witness who saw the contents of one of the shipments. It was just some stupid hooker who was too curious for her own good. She tried to run but my men caught up with her and…permanently dealt with her."

"She didn't get a chance to tell anyone?"

"Not at all, sir."

Frank nodded, "Good. Proceed with the plans."

The man gave a slight bow then turned and left the room. Frank turned back to the window and began thinking of how brilliant his latest scheme was. With the deaths of a few major players in the Gotham underworld so recently, there was room for a man like him to move up. His latest shipment was worth millions and he would soon be ready to flood the streets of Gotham with drugs. With the Batman and police now on different sides he was sure he could get away with it. Everything was so carefully planned…

Suddenly, the muffled sounds of fightingin the hallway outside his apartment caused him to break out of his thoughts. Frank Garnet moved to his desk and pulled out a rifle, then carefully made his way towards the door. He moved to look out the keyhole when the door burst open. The impact drove him backwards and he lost his footing, falling on his back. He moved to lift his gun, when a man threw himself at Frank. There was no struggle and Frank easily threw his opponent off, though he'd dropped his gun to prove so. It dawned on Garnet that his attacker still hadn't made a move and he turned to look at the guy. His heart started to pound. The man was dead.

Realization struck him and he turned back toward the door, only to have a steel toed boot connect with his face. His head was thrown back hard against the floor and stars burst in front of his eyes. A shadow loomed above him and he tried to crawl to his gun. But the other man was far faster and Frank felt an explosion of pain as his attacker slammed his foot into Frank's side. The kick sent him away from his gun and he moaned, trying desperately to sit up. The attacker moved towards him and Frank did his best to kick him, but the other man easily caught his foot. With a twist, Frank found himself lying on his stomach, his attacker still holding his leg. He tried to free his leg but he felt another hand grip his calf, keeping him relatively still, while the hand holding his foot brutally twisted in the wrong direction. Frank screamed as he felt his ankle break.

"What do you want from me?" He tried to turn, to look at his attacker.

The other man dropped Frank's foot and reached for something in his dark coat. He pulled out a massive knife and began moving towards his victim. Frank tried to scramble away but the looming shadow swung his arm down, driving the knife deep into Frank's back. The knife was brutally ripped out only to come crashing down again and again. Pain shot through Frank as he tried to scream, but his strength was fast leaving him and the room began to shift and tilt dizzily around him.

_This is what my victims felt like._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Batman is the property of DC comics and Warner Bros._

Serial Killer

Jonathan Crane was once again watching T.V. in the rec. room. He stretched his arms above his head, enjoying the feeling of having his straight jacket untied. He was a little early for the news so he let his mind wander as annoying commercials blared. He had specifically asked for this time every day to catch the evening news so that he could continue to keep tabs on Gotham's latest mystery killer. Of course, no one dared to question his request for T.V. time; they just wanted to keep him happy out of fear that he'd one day escape. No one wanted to be on the bad side of Scarecrow. Crane's lips curled up at the thought. As soon as he smiled, he could practically feel the guards shifting uncomfortably behind him. His attention shifted back to the T.V. as the news finally came on.

_"Our top story: Police believe that the killer or killers who murdered over ten men has struck again. This morning two more bodies were found butchered in a luxury apartment building in downtown Gotham. Police have identified one of the victims as Frank Garnet, a former drug smuggler who had supposedly gone clean after recently being freed from jail for good behavior. The other victim is Simon Drew, Garnet's personal assistant. Both men showed the same kind of severe gash wounds that had been found on the previous victims. While police are insistent that it's too early to tell, the gruesome similarities of the wounds suggest that the crimes were all committed by the same man. Which brings up a far more frightening question, 'What kind of man can kill so many men by himself?' Some speculate that the perpetrator is none other than the Batman, while others believe a new and more dangerous criminal is to blame. _

_Only time will tell._

_On a lighter note…"_

Crane turned down the volume. He wasn't interested in anything else the reporter had to say, but he also wanted it on in case there was a news bulletin. He leaned back in his chair and started to think. It was sometimes truly amazing to him how stupid people in this city could be. As though Batman would start murdering criminals now. If Batman was going to be pushed to murder it would've been by the Joker. The man had blown up a hospital and attempted to murder not one but two boat loads of people. If the Batman couldn't even bring himself to kill the Joker, he certainly wouldn't start going around murdering petty drug dealers and common murderers. After all, the crime world was a microcosm for the bigger world around it, complete with hierarchies and politics. Oh, the old school mob bosses liked to think they were at the top, and liked to think of men like the Scarecrow and the Joker simply as lunatics. Deep down though, deep down those mobsters _knew _where the true criminal power in Gotham lies.

"Dr. Crane? It's time for your medication."

He turned to see a nurse he didn't recognize standing in the doorway. She's attractive in an intelligent looking way, with the type of face that could easily pass from a mature twenty something to a youthful thirty something. She gave him a nervous smile and he narrowed his guess to somewhere in the middle of that age spectrum. He continued to stare blankly at her and she finally moved toward him, holding out her med tray like a sacred offering to a fearsome ancient god. The corners of his lips curled upward, just slightly. She's new but definitely aware of his reputation.

The guards flanked her but she turned to them, "Thank you, but the doctor needs some space. Patients have a higher chance of choking if they feel too crowded."

Crane's opinion of the young nurse went up a notch. Not only was she giving him space, but there was also no sign of sarcasm in her voice when she used his former title- just respect. One guard gave her a doubtful look but they went back to their positions next to the doorway. She shifted slightly, blocking Crane's view of the guards and held the tray out again. He reached up and took the pill cup. The usual clicking the pills made when he took his meds wasn't there. He looked into the cup and noticed a small, crumpled piece of paper. He raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing. _So that's why she moved, she wants to block the guards from seeing my reaction, _Crane thought. He carefully dumped the contents into his cupped hand, raised it to his mouth and pretended to swallow. The guards could see his movements and knew they were normal. As he lowered his hand he carefully slid the note down his straightjacket sleeve with his fingertips while he used his free hand to reach for the water cup. 

With the note safely up his sleeve he transferred the cup into his right hand, just as he always did, and swallowed the contents. He looked into the nurse's eyes and tried to read her expression. The nervousness was clearly still there, but underneath that he could see a spark of excitement. She tilted her head slightly to the side, an unspoken question, and he gave a slight nod in answer. Acknowledgement that the deed had been accomplished and a promise to keep quiet about it were hidden in those two miniscule gestures.

She smiled warmly at him, "Thank you Dr. Crane. You've been most cooperative."

She turned on her heel and walked out the door. The younger of the two guards none to subtly checked out her behind as she walked passed and continued to look as she walked away. The other guard, on the other hand, looked at Crane. He was one of the few guards Crane respected, mostly because he was smart enough to be suspicious when Crane was nice to someone. Of course, he and the nurse had been far too clever for the guard to notice what they were really up to. Most likely he thought Crane was attracted to the first pretty female he'd seen in months. After all, most of the women working at Arkham looked as burly and ugly as the guards.

Ultimately it didn't matter. Even the smarter guard wouldn't think to check his jacket and when he was once again in his cell he'd be able to slip out of the jacket and read the note. That was the easy part. The hard part would be getting out of his cell and having a little private chat with the new nurse.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Detective Eddie Nashton looked at the photos spread across his new partner's desk calmly. The different shades of red, blood and guts at varying degrees of dryness, seemed particularly harsh under the bright lights of the office. It was nothing new to him; he'd seen similar slaughter when he worked with the Bolton police. However, from the moment he was introduced to Detective Bullock the older man seemed determined to test Nashton's worth. The handshake had been far too hard, but Eddie had refused to flinch, keeping a friendly smile firmly in place. When he had finished organizing his new desk, Bullock had dumped a disorganized pile of files on it, telling him to have a look. To Nashton's disgust some of the files had had food stains and were even sticky. Perhaps worst of all was Bullock kept calling him degrading nicknames like junior, kiddo and newbie.

Of course, if Eddie returned the favor and started calling Bullock some of the nicknames _he _was thinking of- like meathead, or Bigfoot- Bullock would undoubtedly make his life hell. He looked over at his partner, who was leaning back in his office chair, looking bored.

"You gonna stare at those pics all day or are we gonna investigate some of the leads we came up with?" Bullock didn't even attempt to hide his sarcasm.

Nashton clenched his jaw to prevent himself from talking back. They both knew that it was Nashton who had come up with the leads after doing a good deal of research on the previous murders. Apparently, Bullock didn't like Eddie's silence because he sat up straight in his chair and narrowed his eyes.

"You come up with another clue, boy genius?" This time there was genuine curiosity beneath the sarcasm in Bullock's voice.

Nashton resisted the urge to shift his feet. Bullock was looking up at him, but instead of that giving Eddie a sense of having the upper hand, it reminded him of their size differences. Even sitting down, Bullock was up to Eddie's shoulder.

"I was trying to compare the victims' body positions to see how many of them had gotten the chance to struggle and whose positions suggested they didn't get time to fight back." Nashton looked Bullock in the eyes, "That might help us prove for certain whether it was one man or several."

Bullock paused then scoffed, "Well, of course, everyone knows that."

Eddie couldn't resist a slight smile. Bullock's words might've been sarcastic but the pause gave him away. Clearly, _everyone_ didn't include Bullock himself.

"Let's check out those leads." Nashton headed out of the room without waiting for Bullock.

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Batman crouched on the fire escape outside of Commissioner Gordon's home. It was something of a routine for them. Anytime a major crime hit the city Batman would show up in this spot, at this time, to discuss the details with the commissioner. Gordon had several files in his hands when he stepped outside.

"These are copies of pretty much everything my people could come up with from the latest set of murders." Gordon handed the files to Batman, "I also thought you might be interested in a copy of a report Detective Nashton gave me earlier."

"Nashton? Is he new?"

Gordon nodded, "If the name sounds familiar, it's not surprising. Nashton solved some pretty big cases in Bolton before coming here. Anyways, he and his partner Bullock checked up on some leads they dug up, including a few witnesses who say they saw the killer."

Batman frowned slightly, "Not up close."

Gordon shook his head, "No, not up close. But one let slip that he'd heard the killer had murdered a lot more people than we know about. Nashton thinks that if it's true, the killer might be trying to throw us off his true intentions by purposely leaving some bodies where we'll easily find them and disposing those that might give him away more carefully."

Batman gave a slight nod. "I'll look into it."

With that he was gone.

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The nurse walked across the parking lot of Arkham towards the black car awaiting her. The tint of the windows and darkness of the night prevented her from seeing the driver. She was trying hard to still her shaking limbs as she reached for the backdoor handle and stepped in. As soon as she closed the door the car started moving.

"No one questioned the paperwork?" The driver's deep voice caused her blood to go even colder.

"They said it all checked out and seemed very thankful that I was able to substitute for the other nurse on such short notice." Her eyes flicked nervously out the window before returning to the rear view mirror in an attempt to see the driver's face.

For a moment there was silence but the nurse couldn't hold onto the question that had been plaguing her all day. "You didn't…" She swallowed and tried again, "You didn't kill her did you?"

"No." He turned slightly and she knew he was looking at her through his side door mirror. She couldn't see his reflection, but it's clear that his mood has shifted slightly, though she doesn't know why. She's surprised when he continues. "I don't kill innocent women. I gave the other nurse a very, very handsome reward if she called into work and told them she'd have to leave Gotham for a family emergency. I told her she was to stay out of town until I contacted her."

The nurse's eyebrows furrowed, "If she could be bought off, why didn't you get her to do this? Why me?"

"I don't trust her enough. Trusting her to get out of town and stay quiet about it is one thing, trusting her to help me with this plan is another."

The nurse looked genuinely surprised, "You trust me?"

"To be able to do the things I need you to do, yes."

The nurse relaxed slightly and leaned back in the seat. She figured what he said was supposed to be a compliment. "Do I get to go home now?"

"Yes. But I'll be back tomorrow morning to drive you to work again."

She gave a soft sigh as she looked out the window. "How long does this have to go on?"

"As long as it takes."

The fear and frustration started to shift into anger. She couldn't control the sarcasm in her voice, "Gee, could you be a little _less_ specific?"

For a moment he was silent and part of her wanted to take back her brash words, but the angry part was stronger and she glared at the back of his head.

His voice is calm when he responds, "Good, you're angry. Fear will get you killed in a place like Arkham, better to get angry at the things that make you afraid. Anger will keep you alive."

"Nice of you to show so much concern for my welfare."

He said nothing and she realized they were pulling up to her building. The car stopped and she opened the door to get out. Just as she was about to close the door he spoke again.

"Tomorrow morning, 7:30 A.M."

It sounded like a death sentence to her.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Batman is the property of DC comics and Warner Bros._

Serial Killer

At 4 A.M. Detective Eddie Nashton's phone rang. He gave his head a shake to get rid of some of the fog in his brain, turned on the lamp then picked up the phone.

"Nashton, it's Commissioner Gordon. I need you to be at The Beaumont Hotel on 5th and Main, downtown a.s.a.p. There've been more murders."

The commissioner's words jolted Eddie to full wakefulness. "I'm on my way."

Both men hung up and Nashton jumped out of bed, quickly pulling on his clothes. He rushed out the door, locked it and quickly made his way to the elevator. There was a sign on the doors that said out of order. Eddie scowled and ran for the stairwell. He hoped The Beaumont's elevators were in better shape than the one at the hotel he was staying at, or he'd end up passing out from exhaustion at the crime scene.

Luckily The Beaumont Hotel wasn't far. Several police cars and ambulances clogged the street in front of the hotel. Eddie pulled over and watched as a young uniformed officer started walking towards his car. He finished parking and got out of the car just as the uniform made it to him.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to…"

Nashton flashed the officer his badge, "I'm Detective Nashton; the commissioner's expecting me."

"Oh, I'm sorry, detective. We were told to keep civilians as far as possible. The commissioner told us to expect you but, well, I thought you'd be older."

Eddie couldn't help raising an eyebrow and the kid had the grace to look embarrassed. Clearly he didn't have to point out that the other officer was even younger than him. Instead Nashton smiled politely and began walking towards the hotel, the uniform falling into step beside him. "Don't worry about it. Now, what can you tell me about the crime scene?"

"To be honest, nothing. The commissioner's keeping everything pretty hush. He was one of the first on the scene and since he got here…" The officer shrugged as they reached the bottom of the steps. "This is as far as I'm supposed to go. The scene is on the 17th floor."

Nashton nodded and went up the steps. Cops were swarming the lobby and a few looked his way when he entered. Eddie raised his badge and they turned back to their business. A quick elevator ride up and the detective stepped out onto the 17th floor. Cops, medics and investigators were working in the hallway in front of him. The sound of retching caught his ear and he turned to look down a separate hallway to his right. A uniformed officer was bent over a large potted plant, throwing up. Eddie turned away, knowing the cop would be humiliated if he checked on him. _Well that's not encouraging,_ Eddie thought dryly._ This is gonna be really bad._

"Nashton!"

The detective caught sight of Commissioner Gordon. He quickly made his way over to the older man. "Commissioner?"

Gordon gestured to the open doorway he was standing in front of. "Maybe you should have a look on your own before we talk. I've been looking at it too long." He paused and rubbed his temples, "Maybe a fresh pair of eyes can make sense of this mess."

Nashton gave a silent nod then turned and entered the room. It was a very large, very expensive hotel suite, with huge windows taking up most of the far wall, a large balcony beyond and a bar to the right of the door. The suite probably took up a large chunk of the 17th floor, easily the size of three or four ordinary hotel suites. The whole thing was decorated in cream and gold. The elegant and sophisticated style of the room seemed to heighten the gruesomeness of the crime scene. Blood splattered the walls, bodies and body parts were scattered around the room and there was so much blood in the carpet that it squelched beneath his feet. The smell of blood and death hung thickly on the air and Eddie attempted to breathe through his mouth in a vain hope to lessen the stench.

This definitely explained the officer puking in the flowerpot.

The detective moved slowly to the first body he saw. Even though the scene repulsed a part of him, his analytical mind was already memorizing and categorizing everything he saw. The first body was lying on his stomach. One of his arms had been completely hacked off and was several feet away. The back of his jacket was shredded and the exposed flesh reminded Eddie of hamburger meat. _Don't think of food you idiot! _Nashton closed his eyes for a moment until the wave of nausea passed. He crouched next to the body, pulled on a pair of surgical gloves, which he always kept in his jacket pocket, and began studying the corpse. The wounds looked rough, choppy and too wide to be a knife.

Nashton methodically went to each corpse and each severed body part, studying every wound and every bloodstain carefully. The detective quietly counted the amount of steps it took to get from one grisly piece of flesh to the next, calculating distance, imagining the speed of each attack, his mind putting each clue together. Slowly the other officers in the room began to fade away, his mind overlapping the current murder scene with how he imagined the room looked just before all chaos broke loose.

_Two men were sitting at either end of the couch, one was relaxed and smoking a cigar, the other nervous and sitting at the edge of the cushion. Another man was helping himself to the small but elegant bar at the right side of the room, making some drinks for his guests. Another stood in front of the two men on the couch, a glass coffee table in between them. Three more men stood in a group behind the couch, close to the window. The door bursts open. The man standing by the coffee table is the first to die; he falls onto the coffee table, shattering it. The nervous man stands up, attempting to pull out his gun, but he's decapitated before he has the chance. The body falls back onto the couch, the head rolls on the floor. The other guy on the couch doesn't waste time trying to stand he goes for his gun first and manages to fire a shot into the attacker's back. _Eddie stops his wandering around the room for a moment, staring into space. _A bulletproof vest! The attacker had to have been wearing a bulletproof vest! Perhaps other armour as well?_

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Commissioner Gordon watched silently as Detective Nashton surveyed the room. One of the other cops had noticed the detective's behaviour and thought it was unusual enough to drag Gordon back into the room to see. At times Nashton seemed to be intensely focussed on a piece of evidence, but then he'd stand up, take a few steps, pause, stare off into space for a moment, then count how many steps it took him to reach the next piece of evidence. Occasionally, the detective would look up sharply and point as though he just saw someone or something move across the room, even if there appeared to be nothing in the area he was looking. Gordon realized that the young detective must've been trying to visualize the crime from the evidence he was studying in the room. The commissioner had told the other officers to go out into the hallway to give Nashton room to move about undisturbed. Gordon watched the young detective with fascination, until Nashton suddenly stopped and pulled out a notebook from inside his jacket. He began scribbling rapidly in the book for several more minutes before he finally looked up at the commissioner.

Gordon walked towards him and gestured at the notebook, "What have you got?"

"One killer, axe, armour."

The confused commissioner shook his head, "Try that again, detective."

Nashton blinked and looked around the room. When his eyes returned to Gordon's they were focussed and intense. "I'm sorry, sir. My brain was still focussed on the…puzzle. What I meant to say is that I'm certain it was one killer, that he used an axe and that he was likely wearing a bullet proof vest, possibly full body armour."

_Full body armour... _Gordon felt a queasy lump forming in his stomach. _Not Batman...couldn't be. _He kept his face as neutral as possible. "Can you explain to me how you got to these conclusions?"

"I'll do my best sir," Nashton pointed to the first body he had studied. "There are several reasons I believe there was only one killer. For one, the wounds all appear to be caused by the same weapon and used by the same person. While it's possible that more than one killer would use the same style of weapon, they wouldn't be able to swing it with the same amount of force. Therefore, even with the same weapon, the wounds would look a bit different. Secondly, the men in the room were spaced out far enough apart that the killer could move relatively freely but still be able to reach each person fairly quickly. Of course, a few of them did manage to pull off a few shots, but in the dark and with…"

Gordon cut him off, "Who told you the lights weren't on when we found them?"

"No one. I just figured that since the killer turned off the lights in the warehouse, to confuse and disorient his prey, he'd likely do it in this case as well. I have no doubt he has some kind of night vision goggles or something of the sort. Easy enough to get, these days, you can probably find them on e-bay."

"Night vision goggles, body armour, isn't it more likely to assume more than one person was involved?"

"The Batman's been known to take on equally large numbers successfully and that's without the aid of an axe."

Gordon inwardly winced at the mention of Batman, but then he thought more carefully about Nashton's words. "You've ruled out the Batman?"

"This was done by the same person who did the warehouse killings and the two murders from the other night. I did a lot of research on all the murders and noticed that at the approximate time of the warehouse killings the Batman had been spotted all the way on the other side of town by several reliable witnesses." The detective shrugged, "We may not trust the Batman, but the witness testimony is solid."

The commissioner was secretly relieved. Though he knew better than to distrust Batman, he had been worried anyways. "What else can you tell me, detective?"

Nashton looked around. "Most of the victims were either killed or incapacitated by a single blow. There were too many men in the room for him to take his time killing each one. Most likely he swept through the darkened room and delivered a crippling blow to each victim. Only once they were all down did he begin mutilating the bodies. I mean, the guy who was decapitated, it's pretty clear he was dead with the first blow. However, the guy whose arm was cut off was probably alive when he started getting butchered." Eddie rubbed his forehead, "I honestly wish I could say it was quick for all of them…unfortunately I doubt it."

Gordon looked at Nashton's tired face. The commissioner sympathized. All he wanted to do after seeing this crime scene was go home to his wife, curl up in his bed and try to forget what an awful city he lived in. He put a hand on Nashton's shoulder, "I'd like a report on what you've found and how you believe the crime went down. Every detail you can think of. I can give you until the end of the day tomorrow. I'm going to go home and let the CSI folks wrap it up. You should head home too."

Nashton nodded, "Thank you, sir."

Gordon watched as the young detective walked back down the hall, towards the elevators. He suddenly stopped, turned back around and hurried past Gordon to a window at the far end of the hall. The commissioner exchanged a glance with one of the other officers then walked over to where Nashton was carefully studying the window.

"Nashton?"

"The way I pictured the crime taking place involved the perpetrator coming through the front door, there was no way he could've committed the crime on his own if he'd come through the balcony. I assumed that no one saw anything from the lobby's security cameras or else you would've told me before I even looked at the crime scene. Which means he had to have come onto the 17th floor through a window, but not one of the windows in the actual suite." Nashton explained this while jimmying open the window. He then stuck his head out and looked up, studying the frame of the window from the outside.

The commissioner felt nervous as Nashton twisted his body out the window until he was half sitting on the ledge, his upper body now outside. Gordon braced himself to grab onto Nashton if he started to fall.

"Ah ha! Just what I expected." Nashton pulled himself back in. "If you look carefully at the outside edges of the frame and also at the locking mechanism from the outside there are little scratches and dents where the perpetrator used a sharp tool to open the window." He gestured for Gordon to take a look and both men stuck their heads out. Nashton pointed to two different places. "Here and here are the most telling spots. And look at the ledge just below the window…it wasn't a bird that left those scuff marks."

Gordon pulled his head back in and stared at the detective as the younger man pulled himself in. Gordon shook his head, "OK so how did he get all the way up here?"

Nashton's eyes seemed to fade off for a second before refocusing on Gordon. "My guess is he went sideways, not up. The skyscraper being built next door is mostly still scaffolding, but it's taller then the hotel. An athletic man could scale the scaffolding with relative ease until he was across from the window he wanted to get to. The ledge below the window is wide enough to accommodate a man standing…"

Gordon interrupted, "But too wide to jump across."

"True, but look again." Nashton pointed out the window. "See that piece of scaffolding being held up by those chains." Gordon spotted it about a floor up from the window they were at. Nashton continued, "The killer lowered that piece of scaffolding and twisted it to the side to form a temporary bridge, holding it in position at the other end by that other piece of scaffold that juts out slightly. He would've still needed to jump, but only a couple feet. Again, easily doable by an athletic man."

"And after he left," Gordon put the last piece together, "He raised it back up so no one would notice."

Nashton smiled, "Precisely."

Gordon shook his head in wonder, "But you did notice…"

Nashton gave a modest shrug of his shoulders, "Noticing things is just part of my job, sir. I can have my full report ready for you tomorrow morning. My brain is too wired right now to be able sleep anyways."

Gordon nodded, "If that's what you want to do, that would be great."

Nashton smiled again, "I'll see you tomorrow then, Commissioner."

The commissioner gave another nod and Nashton left. Gordon looked out the window at the scaffolding again. He had to admit he was very impressed with how much evidence Nashton had been able to come up with in such a short amount of time. The young detective truly deserved his reputation for being a genius. Gordon frowned slightly; unfortunately, it also meant that the police were up against a very skilled and very dangerous killer. The frown eased slightly. Well, he'd be meeting the Batman tomorrow night and slip a copy of Nashton's report to the vigilante. The commissioner smirked slightly, with Nashton and Batman working on this case the rest of the police department could probably go on vacation…

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Dr. Crane carefully slipped out of his cell in the middle of the night. One advantage of having worked in Arkham was that he knew where all of the security cameras in the building were placed and, more importantly, how to avoid being caught by them. He paused in his walking, pressing himself against the wall and crouching, as the camera in front of him turned slightly, then as it turned away, he carefully moved under it, moving again when it faced the other direction. Unfortunately, sneaking around the hallways was far easier than breaking out of the building itself, the security at the exits far more advanced than the ones in the corridors.

But it wasn't escape that Crane was interested in tonight. No, he was interested in finding a most curious new nurse. One who had slipped him her phone number. _I knew the dating scene in Gotham was bad, but honestly…_The ex-doctor chuckled to himself, _I'd hate to disappoint a fan._

He turned a corner and noticed light coming out from under one of the doorways. He moved closer and listened to the voices inside. He recognized both women's voices: the mystery nurse and Dr. Harleen Quinzel. _What a pair they make. _He smirked as he listened to their exchange.

"Ya know, I'm really glad you were transferred here Bonnie. You're one of the only people to take me seriously." Dr. Quinzel's voice sounded a bit depressed.

"It's just because you're new. Once they get to know you a bit more, the other doctors and nurses will start treating you with the respect you deserve. Besides, I heard they gave you the Joker case. That's a pretty big show of confidence."

_They gave an intern the Joker? What the hell were they thinking? _Jonathan was stunned. He would've never given someone as new as Dr. Quinzel such an advanced case. _Well except maybe to watch him terrify her._

"Oh, I asked them for his case. I thought since no one else really wanted to take him on I'd give it a try. I figured if I could make any kind of headway with him that'd earn me some respect."

"How's it going so far?"

"Um…well it's hard to say. Mr. J doesn't like talking about himself, and when he does his story is always changing. Especially his story about the scars."

"Mr. J?"

"Yeah, I started calling him that because he wouldn't give me or didn't remember his real name but I felt odd calling him the Joker all the time. He seems to like it, which I think says a lot."

"I heard he attacked the last psychiatrist he was given."

"I think he likes me." Dr. Quinzel's voice held a weird hint of wistfulness to it.

Jonathan covered his mouth to prevent his chuckle from being heard. The women of Arkham certainly had poor taste in men.

There was a pause before the nurse, Bonnie, responded. "Well that's good, I guess…Oh I should probably get going. I have to make one more round before I go."

"Sure thing, Bonnie. And thanks for the pep talk!" Dr. Quinzel's voice sounded perky.

"Hey it's my pleasure, you're one of the few people around here that's actually fun to be around. Have a good night!"

"You too!"

The door opened and Jonathan backed up around the corner. Nurse Bonnie turned in his direction and began to walk towards him, unable to see him thanks to the dark and his hiding spot. He let her go by then peeked out to see which direction Dr. Quinzel was headed. She came out of her office a moment later, but moved in the opposite direction. _Perfect. _Silently Crane began to follow Nurse Bonnie, the Scarecrow eager to get his hands on the pretty woman and see the look of horror on her face when she realized he'd escaped. The nurse stopped suddenly and paused, her head tilted to the side as though listening. Crane held his breath, he wasn't close enough yet to pounce and he didn't want her to be alerted to his presence too soon or she might sound the alarm. After a few more moments she began moving again, but there was tightness to her movements that told him she was suspicious. He quietly moved after her, picking up his pace slightly but still clinging to the shadows and crevices in the walls of the old building. She was approaching one of the supply closets and an idea formed inside his head.

Just as the nurse opened the closet door he gave her a hard shove from behind, knocking her into the dark closet. He was surprised how quickly she recovered and turned towards him but he managed to twist her around so that her back was against his chest and his hand covered her mouth. With his free hand he reached for the door and closed it quietly. Then he pulled the chain to turn on the overhead light. She struggled against him, hard, and he was a bit surprised by the woman's strength. He wrapped his other arm around her, pinning her arms to her waist.

"Shhh shh my dear, I thought you'd be happy to see me." His voice was mock soothing, his lips pressed close to her ear. She stopped her struggling and waited for his next move. "There that's better isn't it? Now my dear, I think you and I need to have a little chat, hmm?"

He kept his hand over her mouth but to his surprise she responded with a nod of her head. "Now do you promise to be a good girl and not scream?" Another nod. "Good girl." He removed his hand from her mouth and let her pull away from him. She turned quickly and backed up as far as the closet would let her. She was still within easy arms reach of Scarecrow so he'd let her have her false sense of security.

He gave her a cold, smug smile, "I must say I was quite flattered the other day. All that effort you made just to give me your phone number."

A brief flicker of confusion crossed her face, and then amusement before her face went neutral. "I'm sorry to disappoint you Dr. Crane but that wasn't _my _phone number."

Now it was his turn to look confused, but when he noticed the hint of amusement slip back onto her face, he felt anger overwhelm him. He swiftly grabbed her spun her around and pressed her up against the wall, pinning her with his body and twisting her arms back painfully behind her. "I am not a man to be laughed at little nurse. If it's not your number, whose is it?"

Instead of struggling Bonnie had gone very still. Though Crane was only a few inches taller than she was, the shadowy closet combined with his reputation and current physical position helped him achieve an intimidation factor he wouldn't normally get.

When she answered her voice was soft, soothing and apologetic, "I'm sorry Dr. Crane I didn't mean to offend you. I was laughing at myself, not you, I swear."

"And why were you laughing at yourself?" His voice was still angry but it was a bit calmer than before.

"I was told to give you that number by someone, but it never even occurred to me that the first thing a man would assume when given a phone number by a woman would be that the phone number was hers. An incredibly stupid mistake, but then my mind was preoccupied by the person who had given it to me and why." Her voice had remained calm and even a little self-deprecating while she spoke.

"Who does the number belong to?" He repeated. Curiosity was beginning to get the better of his anger and he loosened his hold on the woman's arms slightly.

"Have you been watching the news lately?"

"Yes, what of it?"

"The newest serial killer in Gotham, the one who's been attacking all those other criminals, he was the one who sent me."

Crane was quiet for a moment. It sounded ridiculous, but there was something about the way she spoke that made him believe she might be telling the truth. "Why?"

Her voice was very soft, "He wants your fear toxin."

Crane's eyes narrowed, "Why does he want my fear toxin?"

"He wants to completely destroy Gotham's criminal underworld. He's been trying to strike fear into them through his gruesome murder spree, but he realizes the police will get on his tail eventually and he doesn't want to be caught before his plans can be fully realized. He thinks your fear toxin will be the perfect way to take out the majority of criminal activity in Gotham City far more efficiently."

"I've heard a very similar plan before. It's what led me to my downfall. Why should I give him my fear toxin? What would he give me in return? If he's out to destroy Gotham's criminals then he'd probably kill me the moment I handed over my toxin."

"I honestly don't know, Dr. Crane. What I do know is that he went to a lot of effort to get me in here to give you that number."

_The way she worded that…_ "You're not a real nurse are you?"

She shook her head; "He pressured the real nurse I replaced to go on a sudden vacation, forcing the staff to come up with a quick replacement. A fake nurse's file wound up on a few Arkham desks and I was hired."

"The other nurse could've been bribed to give me the number, why go to the trouble of putting his own lackey on the inside?" Crane's voice was still very suspicious.

"I asked him the same question, he basically just said I was more trustworthy."

Crane was still for a moment, deep in thought. He let her go and stepped back, allowing her to turn and face him. "Does he realize I'm not given access to a phone in here?"

She shrugged, "You managed to break out of your cell undetected." She tilted her head in thought, "Why don't you break into Dr. Quinzel's office and use her phone? It's right around the corner."

Crane smirked slightly, "I think not. If your _employer _wants to talk with me, he has to bust me out and talk to me face to face."

She gave him a look that told him she thought he was crazy. "You want to talk to a guy hell bent on murdering every criminal in this city, of which you are one of the most famous, face to face?"

Dr. Crane gave her his best creepy grin, "That's right. Think you can arrange it?"

Bonnie looked nervous, "I can talk to him, but I don't know…" She gave a sharp, startled laugh, which took Crane a little by surprise. She shook her head, "Sorry it's been a crazy day, full of crazy people and since I seem to be talking to all of them I guess that makes me the craziest."

Crane smiled more calmly. The woman seemed filled with nervous energy, bubbling out in the form of that odd laugh first, then in her equally odd explanation. One little push and she'd easily fall off the edge of sanity. "Oh I wouldn't say you're the craziest my dear, but I do have to ask: how did a sweet little thing like yourself get attached to Gotham's newest serial killer?"

She shrugged her shoulders helplessly, "How most people get stuck in these types of situations…wrong place, wrong time, wrong words."

"You don't seem like the type who's comfortable with murder."

She gave that startled, nervous laugh again. "He's not exactly interested in my comfort level…" Her face went serious again, "I think he expects me to start following the cause like the others, but I can't, I just can't…" Her voice dwindled off and she seemed to be focussing on something past Crane.

He waited for her to continue but she remained silent so he interrupted, "What others?"

The nervousness returned and she suddenly pushed past him, knocking him into the shelves beside him hard enough to give her a chance to open the door. He managed to grab her and yank her back just in time. One arm was firmly around her waist while the other hand tightened around her throat hard enough to prevent her from screaming. "Tsk tsk my dear, and here I thought we were becoming friends."

He loosened his grip slightly so she could respond. She gasped before talking, "I'm sorry, please, I panicked. I've said too much already. Please, let me go."

"What others?"

"He has followers around the city. Women he uses mostly as informants, though some of us have specialized skills that he's found particularly useful."

"Since you're not a real nurse, I'm assuming you're an actress or performer of some kind?"

"Mostly community theatre, stuff like that. I should've never moved to Gotham. Everyone was saying with Harvey Dent cleaning up the streets there'd be a big cultural explosion in Gotham…so much for that, huh?"

Crane shrugged his shoulders, "You said he only has women for followers?"

"That's what I was told by one of the others. None of us know each other's names or anything, just his nicknames for us. The only one I've ever really talked to was the Doctor. She told me that all of his followers were people who owed him their lives and that he only ever saved the lives of women and children. I figure children wouldn't be overly useful to him, so that just leaves women."

Crane's mind stored all of the information she told him about the serial killer so he could psychoanalyze it when he returned to his cell. "How many followers does he have?"

She shook her head, "I honestly don't know. Like I said, I haven't really talked to many of them."

Crane let her go and she gasped at the feel of his hand finally leaving her neck. Her hand automatically moved to touch the now bruised skin. "Can I go now?"

Crane smiled slightly, "One last thing, what's your real name _Bonnie_?"

She narrowed her eyes, "What does it matter?"

"I like to know who I'm dealing with." His voice was firm and he knew she would realize that he wouldn't let her out of the room until she answered.

She gave another of those sharp, startled laughs. "Ok, Ok. If you really want to know, it's Daphne. Daphne Winston."

"Alright, Daphne, I'm going tell you what we're going to do. I'm going to let you go, but I want you to tell me tomorrow what your employer thinks about my offer. If you tell anyone that I was out of my cell, I will make you suffer for it. Do we have an understanding?"

She nodded, "Yes, we do."

Crane gave her his warmest professional smile, "Then you're free to go."

He opened the door for her and gestured for her to get out. She kept her eyes on him as she walked past, and then hurried out of the room and down the hall as fast as she could without actually running. Crane watched her as she left then started heading to back to his cell.

The former doctor smiled coldly. This whole thing could end up most interesting. The Scarecrow was going to pit himself against Gotham's latest most wanted villain, but Crane knew he had a card up his sleeve.

A card far more dangerous than an ace.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Batman belongs to DC Comics and Warner Bros._

_A/N: I really appreciate the reviews I get and will respond to any questions or comments asked of me (well without giving away plot of course!). Reviews really help with inspiration…hint hint. _

Serial Killer

Detective Nashton knocked on the door to Commissioner Gordon's office, carefully balancing the pile of files and papers in his arms.

"Come in." Even through the door Gordon's voice sounded tired.

Eddie opened the door and poked his head in, "Should I come back later?"

Gordon looked up and his expression brightened, "Not at all. Come in."

Nashton smiled and stepped into the room, closing the door with a nudge from his heel. "I've been looking over the names of the victims and I've begun noticing some patterns that might help us guess who else might be on our killer's list."

Gordon stood to get a better look as Nashton put the pile on the commissioner's desk. "Show me everything you've got."

Nashton opened the top file, "So far we've been focusing on the fact that the victims were all either mob or gang connected. What had us confused was the fact that the victims came from a number of rival gangs and mob families, yet the same person killed them all. It's possible that an upstart gang might hire an assassin to take down some of the major players, but assassins are usually clean and efficient. The victims were all badly mutilated, which suggests an emotional connection of some kind and a desire to send a message."

Gordon nodded, "If we figure out the message we'll have our motive and motive will help us figure out who's on the hit list."

Nashton expression was intense, "I think I already have an idea."

Gordon looked up with surprise, "What is it?"

Eddie opened several folders and started spreading them out on Gordon's already messy desk, "Sebastian Wilkes- accused of sexually assaulting nearly a dozen young women- never convicted, Frank Garnet- accused of murdering three prostitutes and torturing six others- released due to lack of evidence, Anthony Loreto- accused of forcing minors into prostitution- released for lack of evidence, Miles Trenton- arrested for the murders of his wife and her sister- convicted but successfully appealed and released…it's pretty much the same story for all of them."

Gordon frowned, "All crimes against women and girls."

The detective nodded, "The only person to have survived a meeting with the killer had never committed a crime against a woman. His crimes were relatively non-violent and all committed against men."

Gordon ran his fingers through his hair, "So what were all these guys hanging out together for? I mean it's safe to say that a lot of criminals victimize women and girls, but the odds are still in favor of at least a few of them not having that background."

"It has to be some kind of set up. Somehow he lures the victims he wants together. He's very smart about it too. He knows exactly which criminals are likely to hang out or at least get along. After all, he doesn't want them fighting or killing each other before he gets a chance. Considering the killer has managed to get the profiles of so many Gotham criminals, I'd say it's safe to bet he has access to a lot of information resources."

Gordon looked at him sharply, "You don't think he has access to _police_ profiles do you?"

Nashton shook his head, "No, I just meant that he collects a lot of info about his enemies before he strikes, creating his own kind of profile. As for his information resources, I can only guess at the moment who or what they might be."

The commissioner looked down at the files. "So if our killer is trying to scare criminals into not committing crimes against women we keep our eyes on anyone with a past history of violence against women until the killer shows up again?"

Nashton sighed, "Detective Bullock and I will continue questioning possible witnesses and those connected to the victims, but I'm afraid that's all I've got."

Gordon shook his head with a small smirk on his face, "Pretty much all of the leads we've gotten on this case were found by you, Nashton, if you knock yourself down it makes the rest of us look bad."

Nashton smirked too, "I can't help myself, sir, I'm a perfectionist."

The detective collected all the papers and files he brought and looked at the commissioner's still messy desk. Nashton's smirk broadened, "Which reminds me, once this mess is solved, I _will _be reorganizing your office."

Eddie was pleased to see his stressed out boss start laughing.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Daphne Winston, currently known as Nurse Bonnie, walked down the hallways of Arkham Asylum looking every bit the calm, serene and confident nurse she was pretending to be. However, inside she was feeling a strange mix of terror and anticipation as she walked towards her destination. She was meeting with Dr. Crane in the recreation room. The thought almost made her stumble but she caught herself before anyone could notice. She moved her hands up to her hair, pretending she was just adjusting her tight ponytail and the guards that had looked at her turned away. Once there were no eyes on her, Daphne's hand instinctively went to the bruises Dr. Crane had left on her throat the night before. _HE _had noticed them right away when he came to pick her up this morning and demanded to know _everything_. Of course, she had told _him_ every single detail of her conversation with Dr. Crane. Despite the fact his face was covered by a ski mask and his eyes covered by dark goggles, she had been certain she could read his emotions from his body language. She thought for sure he wouldn't make her go back to Arkham; she thought for sure he would realize how dangerous it was. So it was no wonder she had felt betrayed when he told her she had five minutes to get changed into her nurse's uniform and meet him at the car.

On the way to the Asylum he had explained to her, very calmly, that he wanted the Scarecrow to break out of Arkham. He had never actually expected the arrogant ex-doctor to call him; it was all a ruse to get Crane curious. Once the madman was away from the relative safety of Arkham Asylum his foolish arrogance and pride would lead him right into a trap. Daphne had tried to point out to him that the ex-doctor was no ordinary madman, Crane was a genius, but he brushed off the warning. _All you need to do is help the Scarecrow escape. Once he is out, I will deal with him._

Daphne shivered at the memory of those words. But the fear didn't last as she found her lips twisting into an oddly bitter and twitchy smile. _Never mind that I have no idea how to break someone out of an insane asylum_. Once she had arrived at the Asylum things had only gotten stranger. Dr. Quinzel had snuck a note to her with a wink and a smile when they bumped into each other in the hallway. Daphne had then slipped into one of the staff washrooms to read it. The note was from Dr. Crane, telling her to meet him in the recreation room at the beginning of his recreation time. She already knew when that was. So now, against what few shreds of good judgment she had left, she was on her way to meet with him. One last corner turned, past a few more doors and all to soon she was in front of the recreation room door. She swallowed, took a deep trembling breath and opened it.

The first thing she noticed was that Dr. Crane was watching her from the farthest couch, which faced the door instead of the T.V. She was surprised to see that he wasn't in a straight jacket as the guards usually made him wear it at all times, in case they needed to tie him up quickly. He was sitting casually at the far end of the couch, one arm draped across the top, the other on the couch arm and his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. It was the most comfortable she'd ever seen him. "Do come in _Nurse_."

She didn't like the emphasis he had put on nurse but started to move towards him. After only a few steps she almost tripped over something on the ground. She looked down at a shoe. Confusion quickly gave way to terror as she noticed the shoe was still attached to a leg, leading her eyes to notice not one but two bodies crammed behind the couch that faced the T.V. She stumbled backwards and opened her mouth when she bumped into something behind her. A large hand covered her mouth before she had the chance to make a sound, another snaking around her waist to hold her still. The man holding her gave the door a gentle kick and it closed softly behind them. She was well aware that fighting back would just make her attacker angrier but she was unable to completely curb her fight or flight instinct, so she settled for squirming and whimpering.

To her surprise the man behind her began to gently rock from side to side making gentle shushing and clucking noises. "Now, now sweetie pie, none of that. We just wanna have a nice, friendly chat. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

She stilled and nodded her head with what little leeway he gave her. The man behind her released her suddenly and she stumbled a step forward managing to stop herself from falling flat on her face. She took a second to collect herself before looking back up. Standing just a few feet in front of her was the Joker. He didn't need make up for her to recognize him; Dr. Quinzel had described him perfectly to her before.

The Joker smiled, "Why don't you have a seat with us, hhmm? Make yourself a bit more comfortable."

The Joker sat on the opposite side of the couch Dr. Crane was sitting on, so Daphne picked up a chair to sit it in front of them. Just as she put it on the ground the Joker gave it a violent kick, sending it crashing backwards and making her jump. She looked up at the Joker in confusion and he smiled at her.

"Why don't you sit right here," The Joker patted the cushion between himself and Crane. "It would, uh, it would hurt our _feelings_ if you didn't."

She looked to Dr. Crane, his lips were turned in a slight smirk but his eyes showed a cold, sadistic interest in her terror. She turned back to the Joker, scarred lips still held in that overly friendly smile that didn't quite match his predatory eyes. She swallowed and stood a little straighter, forcing her fear down to speak to the Joker for the first time.

"Oh I certainly don't want to hurt anybody's feelings." Daphne felt proud of the sincerity and relative steadiness of her voice even if her face was twitching a little as if confused whether to smile or break into tears. The absurdity of talking about hurting the feelings of two of the most prolific murderers in Gotham City combated with the sheer terror of the situation and she felt herself swallowing down a nervous giggle.

The Joker cocked his head slightly and some genuine amusement slipped into his eyes. He glanced at Crane, who also seemed amused, before turning back to her. He raised an eyebrow and licked his lips, "You uh, haven't moved yet."

A nervous and slightly embarrassed smile finally broke across her face, "Oh right, of course."

Trembling, she sat between them, her body at the very edge of the seat cushion.

"There, isn't that better? We're all nice and cozy together."

Knowing the Joker expected a response she turned and nodded with the kind of big bright smile on her face that was far more connected to fear than happiness.

Of course, he knew it too. "Now, down to business." He clapped his hands once before leaning forward so his face was closer to hers and his elbows were resting on his knees. "Tell me about your boyfriend."

For a second she was confused but when she realized what he meant she shook her head vigorously, "Oh no, no, no…"

Before she could continue she felt a horrible pain in the back of her head as the Joker grabbed her ponytail and yanked her head backwards, forcing her to lean back on the couch so he didn't rip her scalp off.

His voice changed to a horrible half shout, half growl. "What do you mean, NO?"

Daphne kicked herself for her stupidity as she realized the Joker thought she was refusing to talk. Her voice came out small and weak, "I just meant he's not my boyfriend."

The Joker stared at her a moment then let out an odd, almost giggly laugh that ran up and down her spine. He let go of her ponytail and gently began stroking the top of her head. "Now, see, you worded that rather poorly. I thought you were refusing to talk."

"I'm very sorry, honest." Her voice was weak, her eyes wide and tears began to roll down her cheeks.

He smiled and his hand left her hair, "I know you are. Now, let's try this again. Tell me about this killer of yours."

She nodded and nervously spoke, "Well, like I told Dr. Crane, the killer is obsessed with destroying all the criminals in Gotham City. He believes the law is weak and that only extreme violence will be enough to terrorize people into living pure, righteous lives."

The Joker gave a derisive snort, "Destroying all criminals? Forcing people to live pure, righteous lives? Who does this guy think he is?"

She shifted uncomfortably, "He…He thinks he's a messenger from God."

The Joker broke out laughing and Dr. Crane joined him. The Joker's laugh was high and shrill, crawling right up her spine and giving her goose bumps. Dr. Crane's laughter was subtler but that only contributed to the bone chilling effect of the Joker's.

Both went suddenly serious, the Joker leaning close. "Do you believe him?"

She shook her head, "No, but some of the others do."

"Ah yes, Scarecrow mentioned there were others." The Joker licked his lips, "So he has a following does he?"

"He calls us his chosen ones, his disciples. I don't know how many of us there are. I've only met a couple of them and the only one I really got a chance to talk to was the doctor. She was the one who told me about the others, about his plans for Gotham and everything." She looked nervously between the two madmen, hoping they would notice how well behaved and helpful she was trying to be.

The Joker paused for a moment and she could see the movement of thoughts in his dark eyes, "Where can we find this doctor?"

"I don't know how to find her. I was unconscious when I was taken to her place and blindfolded when I was taken away. He's very careful that none of us know how to find each other."

The Joker smiled than swiftly grabbed her ponytail again, pulling her head back and pushing his face above her. "You realize, of course, that the reason he doesn't want you to know each other is because he's afraid that if one of you gets caught you'll rat the others out. Not just by the police either. Your messenger of God has a lot of enemies. Enemies that would gladly torture you to get any information you have about him and if you can't give them any…" He smiled brightly, "They'll kill ya!"

She had to clench her fists to prevent herself from trying to grab his hand away from her hair. She knew that would end very badly. Something about his words struck her and she felt a little of her earlier anger simmer to the surface. The Joker was right, her self appointed _messenger _was more concerned about his plans than the fact he was putting his so-called disciples into mortal danger. If he didn't she wouldn't be in this mess. Even with that anger she was a little startled by the venom in her response.

"Sometimes I hate him!"

The Joker released her hair and she closed her eyes in relief, raising her hand to massage her sore scalp. Distracted, she failed to notice the glance the Joker gave Dr. Crane, so she was a little surprised when the quiet doctor took over the talking. His smooth, professional voice was soothing compared to the constantly changing voice of the Joker. She turned to Dr. Crane feeling just a hint of relief. Terrifying as he was at least he acted more calm and rational than the ghoulish clown.

"Now that you've had a chance to get acquainted with the Joker, we should get down to business. Did you discuss my demands with your _messenger_?" Dr. Crane smiled pleasantly at her.

She nodded, "He said that he wanted you to escape Arkham, but that he wouldn't help you himself."

"I expected as much." A sly smile formed on his lips, "But he didn't say you couldn't help me, did he?"

Daphne had really hoped he wouldn't ask that. She hesitated, "He said I should help you, if you needed me to."

The doctor continued to smile at her, "So you can lead me straight to a trap?"

She tilted her head to the side in thought, "Actually, he didn't mention where I should lead you. He made it sound like the moment you were out of Arkham he'd catch you."

The Joker smacked his lips, "What, uh _exactly _does he plan to do with the good doctor once he's caught?"

Daphne knew that lying would be a very bad idea. She stared at the floor and risked being honest. "He didn't say, _exactly_, but I'm sure he would torture Dr. Crane until he confessed how to make the fear toxin."

Dr. Crane leaned towards her, face just inches away. "And then?"

Both the Scarecrow and the Joker were now looming over her, making her feel claustrophobic and helpless. She answered very softly, "He'll probably keep torturing you until you die."

The Joker shook his head; "Oh now you wouldn't want something like that to happen to our good friend, Dr. Crane, now would you?"

She turned her head to look at the Scarecrow and then the Joker. She shook her head quickly, "Oh no, no, no…of _course_ I wouldn't want that to happen!"

The Joker and Dr. Crane both smiled. The Joker wrapped his arm around her shoulders in a friendly manner. "Well that's good, that's very good. It means we're all on the uh, the same page. So here's what we're gonna do. You're not just gonna help Dr. Crane escape, you're gonna help _me_ escape too. Safety in numbers ya, know?"

She nodded nervously.

"Good, good. Now, I've already explained everything to, uh, to Harley-girl, so once our little meeting here is all wrapped up you're gonna go talk to her and she's gonna fill you in with everything you need to do for our plan."

For a second she was confused but realization hit her, "You mean Dr. Quinzel's in on this, too?"

The Joker smiled and patted her back, "It's nice to have friends, isn't it?"

Even with the Joker's arm still around her, she felt her body relax a little. Dr. Quinzel was a very nice person, maybe even a real friend, so it was a bit of a relief she'd be helping. She looked up at the Joker and smiled sheepishly.

He chuckled, "I knew you'd agree. Now," He stood up so suddenly she almost fell off the couch, "Right about now, people are gonna start wondering where those two guards are, so," The Joker reached behind the couch Dr. Crane and her were still sitting on and pulled out a straight jacket. "You're gonna help Dr. Crane put this back on and escort him back to his cell like none of this happened."

The Joker tossed the straight jacket to Scarecrow who stood up when he caught it, pulled it on and turned around for her to strap him in. Daphne's hands shook badly but she managed to do up the straps. She turned to look at the Joker. "How are you getting back to your cell?"

The Joker leaned in conspiratorially, "I'm in therapy with Dr. Quinzel right now." He pulled back and winked at her. There was a light knock on the door and all three looked toward it.

The door opened a crack and Daphne heard the unmistakable voice of Dr. Quinzel whisper, "Are ya ready Mistah J?"

The Joker smirked. "Let the Scarecrow and uh the _nurse_ go first. They've got farther to go than we do and uh, we don't want them getting caught before any of the fun starts, hmm?"

Dr. Quinzel opened the door for Dr. Crane and Daphne to walk through. As they passed her Dr. Quinzel gave Daphne an encouraging smile. Daphne felt herself smile back and then the door closed and she was alone in the hall with Dr. Crane.

The ex-doctor turned to look at her. "We're probably going to pass other guards in the halls and they might ask you why you're escorting me alone. So when they ask I want you to tell them that you were looking for me to give me my medication and found me alone, tied up in my straight jacket in the recreation room."

She looked surprised, "But won't they blame you for the bodies?"

Crane smiled pleasantly, "What bodies?" He turned his head back towards the recreation room and Daphne noticed for the first time the large laundry bin Dr. Quinzel must've brought with her. Daphne thought back to Quinzel's appearance and realized she hadn't been wearing her doctor's coat but one of the drab dresses that the laundry women wore at Arkham.

She looked up at Dr. Crane's amused face then back to the laundry bin. It was all so ridiculous! Like she was in on some bizarre, sadistic joke that she should not find funny at all. Yet, she was struggling to prevent herself from giggling. She looked up at Dr. Crane again, he was grinning, actually _grinning_, at the obvious struggle on her face. It was suddenly all too much for her and she started giggling, her hands going to her mouth to try to stifle the sound.

Dr. Crane leaned forward, smiling lips pressed against her ear. "While I'm delighted that you share our sense of humor, we need to get moving or we'll give up the game before it's even really started."

She straightened up, lowering her hands and her face took on that slightly snobby bored look she normally used around her _patients_. She put her hand on Dr. Crane's left shoulder and began guiding him down the hall towards his cell. She looked so professional and calm that no one even questioned the odd pair and Dr. Crane was delivered to his cell without further incident.

Daphne then calmly went to a utility closet in one of the emptier wings and, safely hidden, burst into hysterical laughter.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: If I owned Batman, or made any profit off this, I wouldn't be in student debt_.

_A/N: For those curious about Eddie's appearance I do give him some description in this chapter. While a few sources say he's about 6'1, I've stuck to how the comics draw him in comparison with other characters. Most comics I've seen him in he's drawn quite a bit shorter (and cuter) than Batman. So unless Batman is 7 feet tall I'd say Eddie's closer to 5'8 than 6'1. _

_A/N II: The Joker and the Scarecrow like reviews. Don't make them unhappy._

Serial Killer

Detective Nashton sat in the squad car waiting impatiently for his partner, Detective Bullock, to return. The man had insisted on taking a break before they returned to their search for possible witnesses in the serial killer case, and in Detective Bullock's mind a break just wasn't a break without a hotdog. Eddie wrinkled his nose. The whole squad car smelled like hotdogs. Everyday. He had tried hanging an air freshener discretely on the car's front mirror, but the hotdog smell seemed to just laugh in the face of the subtle pine smell. In fact, instead of hiding the hotdog smell, the combination of the two smells just ended up reminding Eddie of camping.

Bullock opened the driver's side door and sat down, careful not to bump his hotdog against the steering wheel. Eddie couldn't hide his disgust. The damn thing was smothered with onions. "You're honestly trying to kill me, aren't you?"

Bullock looked over and rolled his eyes, "What are ya whining about now, Nashton?"

"The car smells like hotdogs. Cheap, onion covered hotdogs. Even when I go home at night I can't escape the smell because my clothes are covered in it."

Bullock took a large bite of hotdog and answered with his mouth full, one onion dangling precariously from his mouth. "Ya know, if you ate a couple hotdogs once in awhile, maybe you wouldn't be such a scrawny pipsqueak."

Eddie was too busy trying to repress his gag reflex watching Bullock talk with his mouth full to bother coming up with a response to his insult.

Bullock swallowed, pulled the onion off his chin and shoved it into his mouth. The older detective's face looked almost thoughtful for a moment, "I'm serious, junior, you may be brainy but here in Gotham a little guy like you is gonna get his ass handed to him."

Nashton felt his temper rise a little, "Life in Bolton wasn't exactly a cakewalk either, Bullock."

Bullock took another big bite of hotdog, chewing while he talked, "I'm just saying, you had some friends in high places there. It ain't the same here. Bad guys don't think twice about beating up a cop, Hell, some of the cops here wouldn't think twice about beating up a fellow cop."

That last part caught Eddie's interest. "You're saying even after Dent and Gordon cleaned out the cop shop, there's still a lot of corruption?"

Bullock lowered his hotdog and looked straight into Nashton's eyes. It was the most serious Eddie had ever seen him look. Bullock frowned slightly, "This info doesn't leave this car, you got me?" Nashton nodded swiftly and Bullock leaned in slightly, "There are some rumors goin' around about what really happened to Harvey Dent. Some of these rumors involve a couple of corrupt cops handing him and Rachel Dawes over to the Joker's men. Some of these rumors suggest that it wasn't the bat-man who killed those cops and even if he did, they were getting their just desserts. Now do you get what I'm saying?"

Nashton nodded slowly and answered softly, "Yeah, I get what you're saying."

"Good." Bullock went back to eating his hotdog and Nashton went back to staring out the passenger side window, deep in thought. After a few minutes of hearing nothing but Bullock's chewing the older cop finally finished his hotdog and spoke up. "You ready to go, kiddo?"

Nashton didn't even flinch at the condescending nickname, "Yeah let's get this over with."

Bullock revved up the car and headed towards what was referred to in Gotham as "Hooker Haven", an area that bordered the Narrows. Despite the nickname, there were ordinary people who lived in this part of Gotham, drawn by the extremely cheap rent. Eddie had narrowed down most possible sightings of the serial killer to this area, so he and Bullock had decided to go in person and question some of the prostitutes. The sun was just starting to go down so most of the women would be just starting work. They had decided that despite the safety issue they'd be more successful if they parked the car outside Hooker Haven and did the rest on foot.

Bullock stopped, turned off the car and both men stepped out. Nashton looked toward him, "So where do we start?"

Bullock shrugged, "Did you look at a map before we came?"

Nashton crossed his arms disgustedly, "Of course I looked at the map. I _memorized_ it."

Bullock grinned, "Great, then we'll split up." Eddie looked at him in surprise and Bullock chuckled, "Oh and make sure you keep your gun handy, kid."

Nashton shrugged his shoulders, "Alright, I'll take the east side."

They went their separate ways. The buildings in the area were mostly run down and the spaces between them quite narrow. It wasn't quite as dumpy and claustrophobic as the Narrows themselves but it was definitely a close second. He heard the sound of women talking and laughing and headed towards it. When he had first started in the Bolton police force, barely twenty years old and not looking a day over seventeen, the other cops had loved to send him to question the 'ladies of the night'. Perhaps because he had been so young looking, or perhaps because of how shy and tongue tied he had gotten around them, most hookers he'd had to question were a lot more open with him than they were around the other cops. In fact, in Bolton he had gotten to know some of the ladies fairly well over the years, they'd give him information regularly and in return they knew they could come to him for help if one of their pimps or johns got out of hand.

Unfortunately, this wasn't Bolton and none of the ladies here knew him from any other cop. It'd make things a little tricky for him. He turned a corner and came face to face with several scantily clad women. They turned to look at him as though sizing him up. A tall woman with dyed blonde hair and a mini dress made of what looked like fishnet with nothing but a matching set of black leather panties and bra underneath and a pair of Go-Go boots took the lead. She sashayed over to him. In her ridiculously high platform boots she actually stood quite a bit taller than Eddie, probably a bit over six feet.

She put a hand on his shoulder and smiled seductively down at him, "What's a little cutie like you doing all alone in this part of town?"

Eddie felt his cheeks going red. Even after years of this kind of thing happening to him he still couldn't stop himself from blushing. One of the other ladies, younger than the blonde and with lovely ebony skin, noticed and moved towards him, "Oh look he's blushing!"

The blonde gave a throaty chuckle. Nashton would've bet money that she was a dominatrix. "Are you looking for a good time, honey?"

Nashton gave a small smile and looked up at the blonde, "Actually I'm kind of here on business."

The blonde's hand dropped from his shoulder and she took a step back, looking at him warily. "You're not a cop."

Eddie raised an eyebrow, "I'm not?"

She seemed a little less certain, "You don't look like a cop."

He smiled brightly, "What do cops look like?"

The girl who had noticed him blushing earlier piped up, "Cops usually look like cavemen in trench coats."

Eddie shrugged, "Sorry, I left my fur loin cloth at home."

The blonde chuckled softly, "I get it now. You're new. The other cops haven't gotten around to making you into a bully yet."

Eddie frowned slightly, "I have no intention of bullying anyone. If you ladies don't want to answer my questions or don't feel safe, I won't push. That's not my style."

The blonde's smile returned and she slid her arm around Eddie's shoulders. "So are you new to being a police officer or just to Gotham?"

The woman's arm around him had thrown him off a bit. Some of the prostitutes in Bolton would get touchy feely with him, but those were usually the ones he'd known for awhile. This woman was still a stranger. Still, she was being friendly so he'd return the favor by answering her question. "I've been a cop for a few years now, but I've only been in Gotham for a little over a week. I got transferred from Bolton."

One of the other girls, a petite thing with bright red hair, suddenly joined in, "Oh you're from Bolton? Mama Cash used to live there!"

The blonde gave the girl a warning look but Eddie gave a genuine smile. "You don't mean Gladys Cash do you?"

The redhead looked to the blonde who was now looking at Eddie curiously. The blonde slowly moved her arm off Eddie's shoulder. "You know Mama Cash?"

Nashton shrugged, "Mama and I go way back. I was brand new to the police force when I first met her. She helped me solve my first big crime. Some of her friends had told me she moved but I didn't know it was to Gotham."

The blonde nodded thoughtfully, "Is your name Eddie?"

The detective looked at her in surprise, "She mentioned me?"

Now all the ladies were grinning and the redhead took his wrist in her hand affectionately, "Mama always says the only thing she misses about Bolton is 'Little Eddie'." She turned to the blonde, "We should take him to her, she'll be pleased as anything to see him!"

The blonde paused, "Where's your partner?"

"We split up. He took the west end."

The blonde nodded, "OK follow us." She began moving further down the alleyway, the other girls grouped around him curiously. The blonde talked as she guided them through the alley maze. "Mama Cash moved here about a year ago. Opened up a really nice brothel to give us working girls a safe place to stay. She's really protective about the ladies around here, and she's sent more than a few pimps running."

They came to an ordinary looking door at the side of a large but ordinary looking apartment building. "This whole building belongs to Mama, but she's really sweet about the rent."

The blonde pulled out a key, opened the door and took Eddie's free hand. The redhead took the hint and let go of his other wrist. The inside of the building was far nicer than the outside. The lighting was dim and the bulbs must've been slightly tinted to give the illusion of candlelight. Tastefully decorated in warm and welcoming tones of reds and browns, the rich smell of spicy incense hung on the air and lulled the senses. The blonde guided him up two flights of stairs and down a hallway, knocking on the last door at the far end.

A sultry voice came through the door, "Who is it?"

The blonde answered, "It's Meg. I got a guy here says he knows you, says his name's Eddie."

The door swung open and a tall heavy-set woman in her early fifties opened the door. She was wearing a lacy red dress with a silky black robe over top, left open of course, and bright red opened toe pumps. Her dark hair had several streaks of gray in it and was piled in carefully styled curls on top of her head. She took one look at Eddie and gave a happy laugh, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce hug. Due to her height and the heels she was wearing she stood much taller than Eddie, which meant his face was buried in her ample bosom when she hugged him.

She finally let go and pushed him at arms reach to get a better look at him. He was blushing from embarrassment but he was also genuinely flattered that she was so happy to see him. He smiled brightly at her and she smiled back, "Oh you're adorable as ever little Eddie!"

She took his hand like a child and guided him into the room. It was all red velvet and wooden furniture like you'd see in a brothel in an old western movie. There were old-fashioned lamps with tassels and she sat him down in a chair next to the largest and brightest of these, most likely so she could get a good look at him. She stood above him and ran a hand through his thick brown hair, before cupping his chin and tilting his face up. "Oh and you still have those devilish green eyes of yours."

Most people mistook his eyes for blue so Eddie was a little surprised that she noticed their real color. He grinned, "My eyes are devilish?"

"You have 'fallen angel' written all over you Eddie, always have." She dropped her hand away and gracefully pulled a chair next to his. "Why would you ever come to a place like Gotham?"

"The Gotham commissioner asked Bolton's police department if they'd be willing to send any detectives, so I volunteered."

She purred, "Was it because you missed me honey?"

He gave her his most charming smile, "You know it, baby."

She laughed and pinched his cheek, "You're the baby my dear, not me."

Eddie smiled and looked down. It was an old routine between the two of them and it was strangely comforting for him to slip into. She was a bit of the familiar in a city he wasn't yet truly comfortable with and he was hesitant to ruin the friendly atmosphere. Mama Cash clearly sensed his discomfort and put a soothing hand on his knee. For all their flirty behavior their relationship wasn't truly sexual, if anything she tended to treat him with the kind of maternal warmth she treated the ladies under her care. "What's troubling you little Eddie? Tell Mama."

He looked her in the eye, "I've heard some rumors that Gotham's newest serial killer has been seen around this area. I need to know if you've heard anything about it."

She took a deep breath and sat back. The other women had sat on the bed watching the events curiously, but now they seemed to tense up a bit, pretty big hints that they did indeed know at least something about the killer. "Eddie, honey, I know you've done me a lot of favors in the past, Hell, you've saved my skin on more than one occasion and you were always such a gentlemen to my girls. I don't think I could live with myself if I somehow put you in that man's hands…I really couldn't."

Eddie's face grew very serious, "Mama so far he's only killed criminals, why would he kill me?"

She looked away from him, "Eddie, the man, well he's on some kind of holy mission. So far, he seems dead set against hurting women or children, but…I don't trust him with men. Not even good men like you, Eddie. I know how smart you are, honey. I know that it's only a matter of time before you pick up on his trail and God help you, I don't wanna think about what he might do if he considered you a threat to his mission."

Eddie's response was soft and comforting, "I've seen the bodies, Gladys." She looked up at him when he used her real name. "Right now the victim's have all been criminals and I know that a lot of people don't care. What's another bad man killing other bad men? But I do care. I care because I've been on both sides of the law and know that people can change. You know that better than most, Gladys, I've told you all about it. With or without your help, I'm gonna have to face this guy eventually, because I can't let this kind of killing go on."

Mama Cash took a deep breath, "You're one of the good ones little Eddie, you really are."

Eddie shook his head; he certainly didn't feel like one of the good ones right now. He looked into her eyes, "Mama if you're afraid he's going to hurt you or your girls for helping me, then I don't want you to risk it. You know that. I don't put friends on the front line."

She bit her lip and looked away, towards the silent young women on the bed. She smiled sadly at them, "Didn't I tell you he was better than a dream? The one true gentleman left in the world…" She looked a little teary eyed when she returned her gaze to Eddie's. "To call an old hooker like me his friend."

He leaned forward and took her hands in his, "Most women can't hold a candle to you Mama, I don't care what they do for a living." He gave her hands a gentle squeeze then slowly stood up. "I didn't mean to upset you, Mama. Please forget I came."

She stood up too, a bit flustered. "Oh don't you even, Eddie. You can't be so sweet to Mama then expect her not to return the favor. You just give me your number honey and if I hear anything I'll let you know."

Nashton hesitated, "Are you sure? I don't want…"

"You never mind about me, little Eddie. Just give me that number." She held her hand out and Eddie pulled his notebook and pen out of his coat pocket. He quickly wrote his cell phone number down and handed it to her.

"You really are a good friend, Gladys." His voice was very soft and he looked at her with genuine affection.

Mama had collected herself and was back to being flirty, "Well, it's hard not to be friends with a sweetie like you." She put her hand on his shoulder and guided him back to the door. She opened it then smiled down at him, "Don't you be a stranger, drop by again sometime!"

With that, her hand slid down to his backside and squeezed hard enough to make him jump. She laughed and he laughed too, shaking his head. "Goodnight, Mama." He poked his head around the doorway and waved to the ladies on the bed. "Goodnight, ladies!"

A flurry of laughter and giggles met his ears as Mama gently closed the door. Eddie started walking down the hallway. He wondered how Bullock's night was going.

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Dr. Crane stood in his cell and stretched his arms above his head. It was almost embarrassing how easy it was for him to get out of his straight jacket now. Beneath the jacket was nothing but a plain t-shirt and it was still early enough in the spring for the Gotham nights to be chill, so he had decided to free his arms but keep the jacket on. He looked out the tiny window of his cell at the full moon. The Scarecrow smirked at the sight,_ a full moon, how very appropriate._ It was very late now, that point in the night where even the rowdiest inmates had at last fallen asleep. Soon, very soon, they would be making their escape. Jonathan gripped the bars of the window in eager anticipation, the moon highlighting the creepy grin spread across his face and making his eyes so luminous they almost seemed to glow.

Dr. Crane's thoughts were interrupted by the soft click of the lock on the door. Slowly and silently it eased inward until there was enough space for the nurse to step through. The first thing he noticed was that Daphne wasn't wearing her usual nurse uniform, which involved a skirt; opting for the uniform the male nurses usually wore. The dimness of the doorway made it difficult for him to see her face clearly, but for a moment her expression was one he'd never seen on her before, she looked almost… predatory. Dr. Crane frowned and narrowed his eyes. She stepped away from the doorway and into the moonlight, her expression a mixture of nervousness and concern.

"Um, are you OK, Dr. Crane? You were, well, you were looking at me kinda funny." Her hands were worrying at the cloth laundry bag she was lifting, eyes wide with excitement and fear.

Crane smirked and shook his head. Clearly the anticipation of escape had affected his perception of her. "Did you bring what I asked?"

Daphne lifted the bag and opened it for his inspection. "I got everything you asked for. I collected all the cans of disinfectant spray and air freshener I could find in the utility closets, all the lighters I could find in the offices and some knives from the staff kitchen. They're pretty small though."

Crane shrugged as he looked through the bag, "The Joker is more of a knife person than I am, anyways. The main things for me were the cans and the lighters."

The Scarecrow pulled out a can and a lighter. He looked up at her, noticing her face had gone very serious. He grinned at her, "I see from your expression that you already know how to make a weapon out of these, hm?"

She nodded stiffly.

His grin faded. "You needn't worry. I have no intention of setting you on fire."

Daphne relaxed slightly and Crane moved past her to the door. He gave a swift look around then gestured for her to follow him. They headed towards the Joker's cell, which was on the floor beneath Crane's. Despite the bag of spray cans she was carrying, Daphne managed to be remarkably quiet. She managed to keep close behind him, dodging from cameras where he dodged, sticking to the shadows like he did. _I wonder if the serial killing messenger from God has given our little nurse some special training?_ A creepy smirk crossed the Scarecrow's face. _ How very thoughtful of him._

"Can you stop smirking like that?" Daphne whispered behind him, "It gives me the feeling you're thinking awful thoughts."

"I _am_ thinking awful thoughts." He looked over his shoulder at her so she could get a better look at his 'creepy' expression.

She looked startled for a second and then gave that nervous giggle of hers, "Of course you are, how silly of me."

The Scarecrow's smile widened into a grin, "Do you have this much fun with your messenger?"

Daphne hesitated, "I shouldn't _be _having fun."

He stopped suddenly and she walked into him. He turned slowly and looked down at her, his voice quiet and serious. "Says who?"

He was mildly surprised that she didn't react with fear to his sudden change of mood. Instead, a grin crossed her face and she leaned forward like she was going to tell him a juicy secret. "Says sane people."

The Scarecrow's creepy grin returned, "Do _they _have this much fun?"

She bit her lip like she was trying to stop herself from giggling and shook her head. "Nope."

He straightened up again, "Then why does it matter what they think?"

Dr. Crane didn't wait for a reply; instead he took the last few steps to reach the doorway to the stairwell and opened the door quietly. Daphne followed him into the dimly lit stairwell and the two hurried down the stairs and out into the hallway. The Joker had already told Crane how to get to his cell and the Scarecrow noticed that the door was already slightly ajar. He peaked through the crack in the door and saw the Joker sitting on his cot applying his famous makeup, Dr. Quinzel sitting at his feet holding up a small round mirror for him. The Joker was also wearing a long coat over his asylum uniform, it wasn't as flashy as his old purple coat, but Jonathan was willing to bet it had a lot of pockets.

"Come in, come in doctor. I'm just uh, adding a few last touches." The Joker kept his voice low enough that no one outside the room would hear.

Dr. Crane smirked, "I feel a little underdressed without my mask."

The Joker grinned, "Don't worry Johnny, I've seen you look plenty creepy without it."

Dr. Quinzel giggled, "We can empty Bonnie's laundry bag and put that over your head if you'd feel more comfortable."

Dr. Crane opened his mouth to respond but then closed it and turned to look at Daphne, "You didn't tell her your real name yet?"

Daphne looked embarrassed, "We were busy discussing the plans, and I'm so used to hearing her call me Bonnie that I kinda forgot."

The feeling that something was off with Daphne struck him again and he continued to stare at her until she started to squirm. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the Joker stand up.

The Joker moved to stand next to Jonathan but he also kept an eye on Daphne, "Somethin' the matter Scarecrow?"

Dr. Crane continued to stare at Daphne, who was now shaking. "I don't know. _Is_ something the matter, Daphne?"

She looked at him like a startled deer and began defending herself quickly and nervously, "We're about to break out of a maximum security insane asylum where a serial killer out for your blood might possibly be lying in wait for us and two of the four people in this group are Gotham's most notorious criminals. I should think odd behavior on my part would be sort of normal."

The Joker chuckled, "Daphne/Bonnie/Nursie makes a good point, 'Crow."

Crane looked at her shaking form and smiled. Of course she was acting strangely, she was terrified halfway out of her little mind. "Forget it, my dear. Show the Joker what you brought."

She hurried over to the Joker and opened her bag. He began pulling out the knives and hiding them inside the multiple pockets inside his coat. When he finished he pulled out one of the aerosol cans and held it up, looking at Dr. Crane. "So where's the best place to start our little, uh _distraction_?"

Dr. Crane shrugged, "Ideally, we want to drag security away from our exit point. Since Dr. Quinzel's car is waiting for us in the parking lot, which is at the back of the building, we want to force security near the front of the building."

The Joker pursed his scarred lips, "If we set some of the front rooms on this floor on fire that'll get security both up and away."

"On this floor they'll immediately suspect you and begin a manhunt. If we want to get away cleanly we should try to make it look like an electrical fire or..." Crane was cut off when the Joker roughly put an arm around his shoulder.

"Where's your sense of fun hmm?" The Joker gripped Jonathan's chin with his free hand and forced the smaller man's face only inches from his own.

Crane swallowed but kept his face as neutral as possible, "You _want_ a dramatic escape, don't you?"

The Joker smiled, "But you wanna go sneaking around like a rat in the shadows."

For a few tense moments there was nothing but silence as the Joker and Scarecrow locked their eyes in a battle of wills. Dr. Crane knew he was going to lose, the Joker's grip on his face and shoulder growing painfully tight, and Crane was struggling to hide the pain.

The tension was shattered when Daphne suddenly whispered excitedly, "The kitchen is on the floor just under us!" The Joker turned to her and raised an eyebrow. She pulled one of the cans out of her bag and held it up, "Who wants to see what happens when some of these are put in a microwave?"

The Joker pushed Crane away from him and moved over to Daphne taking the can and giving her a thoughtful glance, "You'd have to get outta the kitchen _real_ fast, honey."

She nodded, "I can put a bottle of cooking oil in it too, that'll really feed the flames."

Crane frowned, "That'll still mean the guards will be moving upstairs while we're going downstairs…"

The Joker shrugged, "So if we bump into any we'll kill 'em."

Dr. Crane realized that arguing with the Joker was both futile and dangerous. Plus the Scarecrow inside him was eager for action. Crane gave a small smile, even the voice in his head was siding with the Joker. "Sounds good to me."

The Joker grinned at him, "So here's what we're gonna do. Harley and Daphne will head to the kitchen, set the place on fire, scream a bit, really have some fun. Crane will wait for us in the far stairwell, so if any guards come that way he can get rid of 'em. When the guard on this floor comes running to the rescue, I'll take him. That'll give the girls some time to get out, we'll regroup at the stairwell and then it's just down the stairs and out the back door. Sound good boys and girls?"

The group nodded and the Joker led the way out of the cell.

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Improvisation is one of the key skills of any great performer. The ability to immerse yourself into a character completely is another. A good way to try to stay in character, particularly in a strenuous role, is to try to think like your character whenever possible. Thinking of yourself as your character but in the third person might also help. It's also good to try to apply as many aspects of yourself into a performance because an intelligent audience will have a harder time separating your character from the real you that way.

_Daphne Winston is thinking of herself as her character but in the third person._

This was getting far too complicated and far too dangerous. Dr. Crane had noticed cracks in her performance at least twice already and the breakout had hardly begun. Worse still, he had also made the Joker suspicious. In a way it was partly her own fault. She had made the performance far too complicated. She had let Dr. Crane catch her off-guard and was forced to improvise. In a way she owed a lot to her conversation with Dr. Quinzel just before Crane had trapped her, _Daphne, Daphne Winston,_ in the closet. The blonde had unintentionally provided the inspiration for _Daphne's_ current persona. Unfortunately, while the complexity of the performance certainly helped it's believability it also provided a larger margin for error. She had stupidly forgotten to tell Harleen about Nurse Bonnie being a fake name and that error had nearly given her away to Dr. Crane. Yet again she managed to weasel her way out of a dangerous situation, but she held no delusions, it was the battle of wills between Scarecrow and the Joker that truly saved her.

Dr. Crane was far too busy worrying about the Joker killing him to focus any extra attention on her. Of course, that was why she'd stepped in. Both men seemed far too distracted to notice how calculated her move was and the Joker was lured away from Crane by the promise of explosions. The whole _point_ of this breakout was to get Dr. Crane away from Arkham. She wasn't going to let him get killed before they even managed to get out of the building.

Which was why she was currently packing the kitchen's industrial sized microwave with explosive aerosol cans while Dr. Quinzel cheerfully turned the oven and the stove rings all on high heat. Dr. Crane had told her how to turn off the kitchen's sprinkler system, otherwise the fire would be put out far too soon.

Daphne set the timer on the microwave, "Um Dr. Quinzel? You might want to get out of the room before I push the start button."

Dr. Quinzel looked up from the rolls of paper towels and dishcloths she was collecting to put on top of the hot stove. She grinned, "Please, call me Harley. Just give me two more seconds."

Daphne grinned back. It was almost too easy to mimic Harley's manic glee. Harley dumped the paper products on top of the stove and they began smoking immediately. "All set!" Harley ran towards the door and Daphne pressed the start button on the microwave, quickly following Harley out the door and slamming it behind them.

The explosion rocked the door and sent acrid smoke pouring out into the hallway. The fire alarm went off and Daphne looked around, expecting the Joker to come out of hiding to stop the security guard who was sure to come running…Daphne frowned. No security guard was around. She peered through the gathering smoke and noticed that one of the few cells on this floor had an open door. She looked inside and found the Joker knelt over the security guard's corpse, almost lovingly carving a smile onto the dead face. The room's true occupant was huddled in the corner with his arms wrapped over his head.

She hesitated, not wanting to interrupt Joker in this weirdly intimate moment, but he suddenly stood up, turned and smiled at her. "Are we ready?"

She nodded eagerly and smiled at him, despite the bloodstained knife in his hand. He walked past her out the door and she gave a last look at the guard before following him. Harley was waiting for them and they hurried through the smoke filled hallway back to the stairwell where Dr. Crane was waiting. Screams had started to fill the air along with the smoke as the alarm woke the prisoners and they woke in a panic. The Scarecrow led the way down the stairwell and opened the door into the main floor hallway. They had made it to the first turn in the hall when Dr. Crane stopped and pulled out a can of spray. A wide-eyed guard grabbed for his gun, but Crane lit a lighter and sprayed at the lighter, causing the little flame to arc out at the guard like a flame thrower and set the poor man on fire. He began screaming, rolling on the ground in an attempt to put the fire out. The Scarecrow and the Joker calmly walked around the burning man. Harley's previous cheerfulness seemed to dim watching the man's suffering and Daphne could see some of Dr. Quinzel return to the blonde's face. The struggle was short-lived as the Joker realized the women weren't following and glanced back at Harley.

He clucked his tongue in disapproval, "Now, now Harley-girl, he wouldn't stop for you…" He grinned and spread his arms, "But look I've stopped for you and you're not even on fire!"

Harley's mouth broke into her manic grin and she skipped past the guard to the waiting Joker. The sprinkler system on this floor at last turned on and the Joker began pulling Harley away, no doubt expecting Daphne to follow close behind. Instead, Daphne quickly dragged the man directly under the water, waiting to make sure the fire was going out before heading after the others. The man was badly burned but he would survive.

She turned another corner and was surprised to see that the group was waiting for her. The Joker smacked his lips and frowned, "You helped the guard. Why would you give us weapons and then try to stop us from killing people?"

She cocked her head to the side and did her best innocent look, "You told me to bring you weapons, but you didn't tell me I couldn't help people."

The Joker grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled her close, "I'm telling you now. Don't waste any more time!"

She nodded vigorously, "Sorry, I'm sorry!"

He pushed her away in disgust and turned to Crane, "Which way?"

Dr. Crane pointed to the right of the intersection and wordlessly followed the Joker as he took the lead. Harley gave her an encouraging smile, "Mistah J must really like you, he hardly roughed you up at all!"

Daphne smiled at Harley, because that's what Harley expected her to do, then both women quickly followed after the men. There was no one around in this part of the building, partly because the fire had dragged all available staff away, but also because there were no cells at this part of the main floor. Most of the rooms were used for storage and a few offices that were empty due to the late hour. They were no longer bothering to dodge security cameras anymore, there were too many cameras near the exits for it to be possible, but they were too close to freedom for it to matter. No one would be able to stop them now. Harley keyed in her security code and the door opened up. The sounds of sirens met their ears and Harley quickly led them towards her little red car.

Harley quickly unlocked the doors and jumped behind the wheel, the Joker getting in the passenger side door and the Scarecrow and her in the backseat. Fire engines and police cruisers were beginning to pull into the parking lot but they weren't blocking the exits yet. Which meant that no one had noticed the security footage or missing patients.

Harley glanced over to the Joker, "How are we gonna get past them? They'll be sure to check the car!"

The Joker pulled out one of his knives and twirled it. "Just drive up nice and calmly towards the exit and if anyone tries to stop us, I'll just hold this knife to your throat. They'll think you're a hostage and won't dare shoot. Soon as they back off you floor it." He paused, reached into his coat and grabbed another knife. He turned to Scarecrow and offered him the extra. "Better yet make it two hostages."

Dr. Crane smirked and took the knife then casually wrapped his free arm around her shoulders to hold her in place. "Nothing personal my dear."

Daphne gave one of her nervous giggles. "At least we won't get shot at?" It was more a meek question than a confident statement.

The Joker laughed, "That's the spirit!"


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman and I'm pretty sure I never will *runs off and cries*

_A/N: On my last chapter the Joker and the Scarecrow killed 5 people for not reviewing. Save a life- write a review ;)_

Serial Killer

A phone call at 3 A.M. in Gotham City was never a good sign. It was ten times worse if you were police Commissioner Gordon. He grabbed the ringing phone and pressed it against his ear.

The voice on the phone was in a panic. _"Commissioner Gordon? Oh thank God, thank God. The whole bloody place is on fire and everyone's panicking and we need as much back up as we can get…"_

The moment he heard the panicked voice he was fully awake and trying to discern what the man on the other end of the phone was talking about. "Slow down, slow down. Who is this? Where's the fire?"

The voice made an effort to sound calmer, _"Officer Bentley, sir. The fire is at Arkham Asylum. Fire crews are already on site and there were some cop cars too, but they managed to escape anyways and there were hostages in the car…"_

A cold pit opened inside of Gordon's stomach. "Who managed to escape?"

The voice hesitated, _"The Joker and the Scarecrow escaped. They had two female hostages and were holding knives to their throats. There was no way of getting a clear shot without risking the women's lives."_

Gordon cursed, jumping out of bed. "I'll be right over. Call Detective Bullock and tell him to meet me there, I'll call Detective Nashton."

_"Yes, sir."_

Gordon hung up the phone and quickly got dressed. His wife watched him with worried eyes. "What's wrong, Jim?"

The commissioner tried to give her a reassuring smile, but they had been married long enough that she could see right through it. "I'm sorry, but I've got to run."

He hurried out of the bedroom and started dialing Nashton's phone number on his cell. He was out the front door as the phone rang and he had just sat in his car as Nashton's groggy voice answered.

"Hello?"

Gordon held the phone between his shoulder and ear as he backed out of the driveway. "Nashton, it's Commissioner Gordon. We have a situation at Arkham Asylum. I need you there as quickly as possible."

The sleepiness was gone from Nashton's voice, "Yes, sir."

"Good, Bullock will be meeting us there. I'll fill you in when you arrive."

Both men hung up, the urgency of the situation prevailing over details or niceties. The commissioner sped along the streets towards the asylum and prayed that word had already somehow made its way to Batman.

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Jonathan Crane sat in the back seat of a small car that was currently speeding through Gotham. He was thankful that it was Dr. Quinzel driving and not the Joker, the tall clown would've had to push the front seat back into Jonathan's lap just to have enough room to move his legs for the pedals. As it was, the Joker had pushed his passenger seat back almost as far as it would go, keeping Daphne thoroughly trapped behind him. Dr. Crane knew it was on purpose, and not just to annoy Daphne either. As soon as Jonathan had let her go after they'd made their escape past the cops at Arkham, Daphne had pressed herself against the side door as far from him as possible. He had no doubt that she would've tried throwing herself out of the car to escape them at the first chance she got and it was clear the Joker had thought about it too. Which was why he dropped his seat back the moment she seemed to reach for the door handle.

She had given that odd, excited giggle of hers at first, but when she realized the Joker wasn't just teasing her she had gone strangely quiet. He was reminded of the glimpses of strange behavior, well strange for _her _at least, he had noticed at Arkham. During their first conversation, when he'd trapped her in the closet, she'd said something about being an actress. He was beginning to think she was trying to pull off more than one performance at a time. The strain was starting to show.

The Joker ordered Dr. Quinzel to take another turn, leading them far from the Narrows and into one of Gotham's nicer neighborhoods. "Pull over here." He pointed at a small, ordinary looking house.

Harley pulled over and stopped the car. "Is this one of your hideouts Mr. J?"

The Joker rolled his eyes at her and got out of the car. "Of course it isn't, you little idiot. We've gotta ditch your car. Even Gotham's police are smart enough to get the description and license plate of a stolen car."

Dr. Quinzel got out of the car, looking confused. "But it's not stolen, it's mine!"

The Joker stared at Harley for a moment, shook his head and peered into the back of the car at Daphne. Jonathan began unbuckling his seatbelt, keeping a curious eye on the Joker. The Joker gave her a warm smile and his voice was dripping condescension. "Daphne, sugarplum, can you please save the reputation of your gender by explaining to Harley why the police will think her car is stolen?"

Jonathan got out of the car and gestured for Daphne to follow him out on his side of the car. The Joker remained standing on the other side, resting his arms casually on the car's roof, patiently waiting for Daphne's answer. She looked at the Joker then turned to Harley, "The police believe the Joker and Scarecrow kidnapped us. It doesn't matter that you're driving the car, what matters is they saw you with a knife to your throat while driving."

The Joker beamed at her, "Very good, Daphne." He turned to Harley, "Now you get why we're going the rest of the way on foot?"

Harley nodded, clearly embarrassed. The Joker straightened and gestured for them to join him on the sidewalk. He didn't wait for them or even look back to see if they were following. Instead he just began walking, totally confident that they would follow him like obedient dogs. Harley hurriedly tried to catch up to him. Dr. Crane clenched his fists and glared at the clown's back. The Joker was purposely treating Jonathan the same as the women, instead of a criminal of equal power. What was more frustrating was that until the Scarecrow could make more of his fear toxin he had little leverage over the taller and stronger man. He took a breath and forced the frustration out, replacing it with a mask of calm. Though he couldn't fight the Joker he could at least hide how badly the clown was getting under his skin.

Dr. Crane noticed movement in front of him and realized that Daphne was standing on the sidewalk waiting for him. Her face seemed serious and watchful, but when she noticed Jonathan was looking back at her she flashed him her bright, slightly crazy grin.

"We should probably hurry before Mr. J wonders why we aren't following him."

Crane scowled at her but started walking. Despite being shorter than him, she easily matched his quick pace and they caught up to the Joker and Dr. Quinzel without difficulty. The Joker gave them a glance over his shoulder and Jonathan felt himself smirk. Let the Joker make of it what he will. To his surprise the Joker laughed, a surprisingly normal sounding laugh, and threw his arm around Dr. Crane's shoulders.

"No lagging behind Johnny-boy. It's you, our serial killing messenger is after, remember? Safety in numbers and all that." The Joker made a flippant gesture with his free hand.

Jonathan smirked, "Speaking of our friend the messenger, I'm almost a little disappointed he hasn't shown up yet. After all, it's not like our little fake nurse didn't tell him when we were escaping."

Both men looked over their shoulders at Daphne. She shrugged her shoulders calmly, "I'm not a deer from a nature show. The messenger didn't tag my ear with a tracking device and then release me into the wilds of Gotham."

It was an amusing mental image but beneath the humor Jonathan picked up something darker. Beside him the Joker made a clucking noise with his tongue. Clearly the clown had picked up on it too. He released Jonathan and took a step backwards to stand between Harley and Daphne. He hung an arm around each of them, at which Harley smiled brilliantly and Daphne stiffened slightly.

"So, uh, exactly how is your buddy planning to find us?" He leaned his weight on Daphne a little and tilted his head. Daphne was at the petite end of average height for a woman, at least a couple inches shorter than Harley, making the image of the tall clown draping over her almost comical looking. Behind the awkwardness though lay an unspoken threat.

Daphne shook her head; "He only told me that I was to break you out of Arkham. He never said how or even when he intended on finding you."

"So basically your good buddy left you at our mercy, huh?" The Joker grinned, "That was awfully generous of him!"

She smiled at him, "Maybe it's past his bedtime."

Crane frowned; something was up. She was back to her giggly girly persona. Was it tiredness that was affecting her performance or was she aware of something they weren't?

Before he could say anything Harley piped up, "Ah forget that bozo, Daphne, you should stick with us! After all, you don't wanna leave poor Dr. Crane all by his lonesome, do ya?"

Dr. Crane looked at Daphne and responded in a bland, bored voice, "Yes, whatever will I do?"

She smirked slightly and rolled her eyes, "Oh I'm sure you'll find someone far more worthy than myself to be at your side."

Jonathan smiled. He'd caught her. That response was not at all in keeping with the almost flirty way she spoke to him at Arkham. "Now that doesn't sound at all like the Daphne who so gleefully shoved explosives into a microwave. Does it Joker?"

The Joker slipped away from the two women and turned to face them. He ignored Harley, who seemed nervous now, and stared coldly at Daphne. He suddenly grabbed her face roughly and pulled her close to him. "Scarecrow here makes a very interesting point. There's been a couple cracks in your performance tonight," He licked his lips and clucked his tongue thoughtfully. He started raising his arm forcing the much smaller woman onto her toes. His voice became a deep menacing growl. "Care to explain?"

She was silent for a long moment, her eyes staring into the Joker's. Dr. Crane could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Finally she sighed, "I never hid from Dr. Crane the fact I was an actress."

The Joker's hand loosened slightly, "You realized Dr. Crane saw through your nurse disguise and came up with another on the spot."

"The name was one I've used before, which is why it came to my head so quickly. I adjusted the personality of the character a bit; inspired by a conversation I'd had with Harley a few minutes before Dr. Crane caught me." There was no longer any hint of the giggling borderline psychopath she'd played during her previous conversations with the Joker and the Scarecrow. Instead she seemed strangely calm and professional.

Harley looked confused, "A conversation with me?"

The Joker released his grip on her face and she stumbled back a few steps, then turned to look at Harley. "You had told me that you were making progress with the Joker, and that he seemed to get along with you. There was a sort of…glee in your words; that I hadn't noticed before. I thought perhaps letting a little of that slip into my own performance would make Dr. Crane and later, the Joker, more comfortable around me."

The Joker looked at the Scarecrow and rolled his eyes. For all her double- crossing treachery, Daphne was still trying to protect Dr. Quinzel's feelings by not pointing out the very obvious fact that that the blonde was crazy. _Glee, indeed,_ Crane scoffed in his mind.

The Joker pursed his scarred lips thoughtfully and rummaged with one hand through his pockets. He pulled out a switchblade and flicked it open, long blade reflecting the moonlight. "So your boss is nowhere to be found and you're a sneaky underhanded little spy." He casually gestured with the blade towards her, "What's to stop us from cutting you up into little pieces and leaving you for the rats of Gotham?"

She cocked her head to the side, eyes drifting off a little, deep in thought. Finally she gave a self-deprecating smile and shrugged her shoulders, "Being a sneaky underhanded little spy is usually one of my selling points."

Dr. Crane smirked and raised an eyebrow, "Aren't those the kind of traits that a self-proclaimed messenger from God would want to avoid in a follower?"

She turned to the Scarecrow and gave a sly smile, "'Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it.'" She spread her hands, "I never said I was being entirely honest with _him_ either."

The Joker started laughing, that shrill grating laughter that usually crawled up Jonathan's spine, but this time he found himself joining in with a quiet chuckle. The Scarecrow was willing to give credit where credit was due and anyone willing to double-cross three of Gotham's most wanted men was gutsy to say the least.

The Joker slapped her on the back. The gesture was playful but it was hard enough that it must've hurt. The tall clown grinned down at her, "You are one ballsy little bitch."

She gave him a sweet, hopeful smile. "So does this mean you're not going to cut me up into little pieces?"

The Joker patted the top of her head, "Nah it's always good to have an extra low- life hanging around. What do you say 'Crow?"

Dr. Crane gave her a sweet, obviously fake, smile. "Well, who knows when we might need a human shield, hm?"

Harley clapped her hands excitedly. "See? I just knew everybody would get along!"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Edward Nashton pulled into the parking lot of Arkham Asylum and stared. The fire had affected only part of the building, but the damage was bad enough that staff and police had been forced to evacuate fifty or so patients. He quickly parked and got out of the car. Commissioner Gordon was standing next to a couple of the frightened doctors. There was something about their tense expressions that told Eddie the fire was only the beginning of their troubles. He'd bet his car that someone escaped.

Nashton hurried towards the commissioner, who looked up when he heard the detective's approach. "Detective Nashton, we're working with an emergency situation here and time isn't on our side. I'm going to fill you in on the situation and as soon as Detective Bullock gets here you get in the car and go. You'll have to explain it to him on the way."

_How many people escaping from the nuthouse does it take to terrify a police commissioner?_ _Now there's a riddle_. Instead he asked, "How many escaped?"

Gordon shook his head, "It's not how many that's important, it's who."

Eddie blinked, "Who?"

The commissioner frowned and ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "The Joker and the Scarecrow escaped with two hostages. They've been identified as Dr. Harleen Quinzel and Nurse Bonnie Smith." He shook his head again, "I'm afraid it's unlikely we'll find either woman alive."

Nashton frowned, "Are we sure the women weren't helping them escape?"

Commissioner Gordon looked at Eddie as though he'd declared the world was flat and made out of puzzle pieces. "Nobody is crazy enough to let the most notorious criminals in Gotham's history free."

Nashton nodded, "OK so…" He was cut off by the sound of screeching tires.

Bullock pulled his squad car right next to them. He was about to get out but the commissioner pointed at him, "You stay in the car. Nashton, get in."

The tone of his voice was sharp as a whip and Eddie barely realized how fast he'd moved at the sound until he was opening the passenger door. He was about to get in when he realized the commissioner hadn't told them where they were even headed.

He looked over the car roof at Gordon, "Any idea where we should look first?"

"The car they were driving was last spotted headed towards the Princess Point area, a small middle-class neighborhood. The car was described as a small, red sedan with black trim. License plate was M1S T8K."

Bullock wrote it on a note pad, "Got it chief!"

Eddie got into the car quickly and had barely shut the door before Bullock pressed the gas pedal to the floor and swerved out of the parking lot. As they burned rubber away from Arkham, Bullock spared a glance toward his partner. "So did he even tell you who we're after?"

Eddie nodded, "Yeah, he said the Joker and the Scarecrow escaped."

Bullock's hands tightened on the wheel, "Ah shit."

The older detective's voice had kept its usual cocky sound but Eddie noticed some of the blood drain from the other man's face. Nashton swallowed, "There's more."

Bullock snorted, "There always is."

"Gordon said they were last seen with two hostages. He seemed pretty sure the women would be killed before we found them but I'm hoping we can get there first."

"Hopes are wasted when dealing with psychos like the Joker and Scarecrow. If the hostages are still alive, God only knows what's happening to them." Bullock shook his head, "The Joker likes to carve up his victims. I mean, he'll shoot people, poison them and blow them up, but from what I've heard, if he has the time he likes to use a knife on them."

Nashton felt a shiver go up his spine, "Well on the bright side it should be two on two. I doubt they've had the chance to contact any henchmen."

Bullock glanced at Eddie again, "If it comes down to a fight, you leave the Joker to me, kiddo. Dr. Crane you can probably take, he's about as puny as you, but the Joker would eat you alive."

Nashton clenched his fists, "Thanks for the words of encouragement."

Bullock shook his head, "I'm serious, junior."

The younger detective sighed, "I know, Bullock, I know. You're more familiar with these criminals than I am, despite all the research I've done. I'll follow your orders on this one."

It stung Eddie's pride a bit to say it, but he was smart enough to know that he hadn't dealt with criminals like the Joker or Scarecrow before. It was better to be safe than sorry. Plus, even he had to admit he was more brain than brawn.

A strange thought suddenly occurred to him, "Hey, what do you think are the chances that our criminal hating serial killer would go after the Joker and Scarecrow?"

Bullock snorted, "With our police department's luck? Not a chance."


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: Batman belongs to DC comics and Warner Bros._

_A/N: Thanks to those who have consistently reviewed this story, it means a lot. Reviewing lets an author know that their story is being read and encourages them to continue writing. So please review ___

Serial Killer

The Dark Knight sped through the streets of Gotham on his Batpod, running over the information Commissioner Gordon had managed to send him so far. Without the Bat signal it was tricky for Gordon to get a hold of him, so Batman had given the policeman a special, untraceable phone number to contact him by. The commissioner's voice had sounded worried to the point of almost panicking as he had filled Batman in on what had transpired at Arkham Asylum. The conversation was short; they had to move quickly. There was still a small chance that at least one of the hostages was still alive and Batman hoped he'd be able to reach them before the Joker and Scarecrow decided the women were no longer useful.

The neighborhoods were getting nicer now, a little cleaner, and a little less gloomy. Batman checked the license plates of any cars that fit the commissioner's description of the stolen car the criminals had made their escape in. He had no doubt that the villains were smart enough to dump the car before they made it to their hideout, but he hoped finding it would lead him in the right direction. He suddenly heard the sound of police sirens approaching and swung quickly down an alleyway before the cops could spot him. He watched the cop car swoop past and then headed out behind them, keeping back enough that the officers wouldn't spot him following.

After several minutes the police car swung quickly to a stop and Batman was forced to swerve between a low-rise apartment building and a small house. He quickly climbed up the side of the house and silently moved over the rooftops until he reached the house the officers had stopped in front of. He noticed immediately that the stolen car was there. Two plainclothes cops were inspecting the vehicle, or more accurately, one officer was carefully examining it while the other looked on impatiently. The doors had been shut but not locked and the more intrepid officer had taken no time to start searching for clues. Batman leaned forward carefully to hear what the men were saying.

"OK, junior, what do we got? The Joker leave a matchbook or somethin' with the name of the hotel he'd like to stay at?" The bigger of the two cops glanced casually around the street. "Ya know, if they're on foot now, we might be able to catch up to them in the car."

The more slender cop, awkwardly perched over the front seat so his legs were kicking at the dashboard while his upper body was in the backseat, shook his head. "Not if we have no idea where they're heading. Now just give me one more second…Ah ha!"

The younger cop- Bruce was beginning to think of them as Big Cop and Little Cop due to the almost ridiculous size difference- wriggled back out of the car. He was holding something carefully in his hand. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag, putting the evidence into it. Though it was hard to tell from his distance Batman was certain the cop had collected hair samples.

Big Cop looked at Little Cop incredulously, "Damn it, Nashton, what're you wasting time collecting hair samples for? We already know the identities of everyone involved!"

_Nashton._ Bruce remembered the reports the young detective had given Gordon about the serial killer. The man was good.

"That's not why I need these samples, Bullock."

Bullock, a name that seemed weirdly appropriate for Big Cop, looked at Nashton in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I went to Arkham the other day to do a little research on former patients, both legally released and those who escaped, to see if any of them had an M.O. that matched the serial killer." He started heading towards the squad car, "I was directed to the files by Dr. Quinzel. I got the chance to ask her about her patients but the only one she seemed to have any interest in was the Joker."

Bullock reached the driver's side and grabbed the handle, "So what? He's probably her most famous patient, unless she was unlucky enough to be treating the Scarecrow too."

Nashton stared hard at his partner, "I mean she seemed _really _interested in the Joker."

Bullock's mouth dropped open a little, "You're not telling me that you think she was _falling_ for the guy?"

Nashton hit the roof of the car angrily, "How could I have been so stupid? My gut told me that something was wrong, that the way she was talking about him was strange, but I was too damn focused on the serial killer to question her about it."

Bullock scratched his head, "So what does that have to do with the hairs?"

Nashton held up the baggy, "These hairs aren't just green, Bullock. They have traces of makeup on them."

Bullock rubbed his forehead in obvious annoyance, "Everybody knows the Joker wears makeup, Nashton."

The younger detective glared, "If we call the commissioner he'll probably tell us that the Joker was wearing his clown makeup when he broke out of Arkham. Damn it Bullock think about it! How did he get face paint in an asylum?"

Batman's hands clenched tighter to the roof. If Nashton's theory was right than the women weren't hostages at all.

Realization finally dawned on Bullock's face, "But the Joker and Scarecrow threatened to kill the women…"

Nashton shook his head; "My guess is that the Joker and Scarecrow only pretended to threaten the women with violence to fool the officers at Arkham into letting them go. Which means that chances are still good we'll find them alive." Nashton slipped into the car.

Bullock followed, "So you gonna radio your theory in to the commissioner?"

"Yeah, but we should still go along this road in the off, off chance we miraculously stumble upon them."

The cops shut their doors and drove away. Batman swiftly climbed down from the roof and moved towards the car. It didn't take him long to realize that Nashton's search hadn't missed any important clues. He started to move back toward the Batpod when a thought occurred to him. He looked back at the license plate. M1S T8K. Mistake. The license plate spelled 'mistake'…Nashton's theory about Dr. Quinzel went through Batman's mind again. He felt slightly nauseous as he got on the Batpod and drove away from the little red car.

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Harley watched as the Joker walked up the driveway of a perfectly ordinary looking house. Oh sure it was a little out of the way, they'd had to break off the main road and walk along a dirt road for a few minutes before they reached the driveway, but otherwise totally ordinary. She was a little disappointed, but she didn't want the Joker to know that. He'd seemed so excited when they'd finally spotted it. Once he reached the front porch he signaled for his three followers to stop where they were, halfway up the driveway.

He flashed them an impish grin, "There might be a few booby traps lying around so just gimme a minute. Don't want anybody getting blown up acci-_dent_-ally." He started laughing as if he had told a hilarious joke, so Harley gave him her best encouraging smile.

The Joker turned back around and bent down, lifting one of the porch planks slightly and pulling a key out. He then unlocked the door and slipped inside.

Harley turned back to the others. Scarecrow looked tired and cranky. She wasn't used to seeing him without his glasses but he really did have nice eyes…it was a pity he didn't smile more. Daphne was looking away from the house at the trees that surrounded them. Suddenly the brunette turned, as though she could sense someone watching her, but gave a small smile when she noticed it was Harley. The smile was all the encouragement Harley needed, she skipped over to stand next to Daphne.

Harley grinned, "Funny that joke Mistah J told, huh? About not wanting to accidentally blow anybody up?"

A slight frown crossed Daphne's features, "Did you notice how he emphasized 'dent'?"

Behind them Dr. Crane spoke, "You noticed that too?"

Harley turned to look at the Scarecrow, whose handsome face was currently twisted into an unpleasant frown. Seriously, the guy had to smile more. However, it was clear that Crane and Daphne had gotten the joke and she hadn't so she'd have to cave in and ask. "So what's so funny about 'dent'?"

Daphne crossed her arms and looked away angrily, "Absolutely nothing, Harley."

Scarecrow chuckled, "It's a play on words, Harley. He was referring to the fact he blew up Harvey Dent."

"Oh." Harley had to agree with Daphne, that wasn't very funny at all.

Jonathan looked up to the house and sighed, "Quit acting so morose ladies…"

He was cut off by a sharp laugh and both he and Harley turned towards Daphne. She looked at him in a combination of disbelief and amusement, "Did _you_ of all people honestly tell _Harley_ to stop acting so morose?"

Harley looked at Jonathan, he smirked at her and suddenly she burst into laughter. The idea of someone as serious and unfriendly as Dr. Crane calling her morose was a joke she could definitely appreciate. It was even better that Daphne and Jonathan had started laughing too. There had been too much stress, too much anger and too much arguing tonight. The tension was bound to get to them at some point, but Harley was relieved that it was broken by laughter instead of violence.

The Joker at last stuck his head out the door, no doubt curious about the sudden burst of merriment outside. He licked his lips, "Hey kids, what did I miss?"

The Scarecrow looked up, his face still bright with amusement, "I called Harley and Daphne morose…"

Harley eagerly jumped in, "But then Daphne pointed out how silly it was for Johnny to say something like that about me."

The Joker looked down at them from the porch, shrugged his shoulders and grinned. "Ohhh-kaayy. Well, the place has been de-boobied so why don't we bring the party inside, hm?"

Harley eagerly climbed up the steps, despite her tiredness. She was surprised to find that the house was remarkably neat and tidy on the inside, despite a fine layer of dust over everything. It didn't look at all the way she expected a master criminal's hideout to look. In fact, it looked an awful lot like some little old lady's house, complete with faded floral wallpaper and china cabinets filled with flowery plates and little porcelain dolls. Why on earth would the Joker want to stay here?

"Brilliant." The Scarecrow smiled as he shook his head. "It's so stunningly perfect."

The Joker grinned at the praise, "See, I just knew you'd appreciate the thought and effort I put into this place."

Harley realized how proud the Joker was and that she was being rude not to compliment him, "Yeah it's great, Mistah J!"

Joker gave her that smile that said he knew she didn't know _why_ he thought it was great, but appreciated that she was at least trying.

The Joker clasped his hands together, "Now there is one, minor, little catch to this place. There's only one bedroom." He grinned and elbowed Jonathan in the side. "So you and nursie will have to share the foldout couch."

Harley grinned, it was so cute how Mistah J was trying to play matchmaker!

She didn't notice how Jonathan and Daphne glared at each other while the Joker guided her to their new bedroom.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Daphne crossed her arms the moment the Joker left the room. "I'd rather sleep on the floor."

Dr. Crane gave her a creepy smile as he began taking the cushions off the couch. "There might be vermin on the floor."

She scowled, "At least on the floor it's only a _might_ _be_."

Crane gave her an exaggerated hurt look, "Are you implying that I'm vermin? And here I thought we were becoming friends."

She smiled sweetly at him, "Oh we arefriends, _Johnny_. Which is why I don't want to ruin our _special friendship_…"

The ex-doctor pulled out the bed and set up the legs. "Oh no, we certainly wouldn't want to do that, now would we?"

He crawled onto the bed, smiled at her, rolled onto his back and stretched out. "Ah this is so much roomier than my cot at Arkham…"

She chuckled despite herself. He was taking being a jerk to such an extreme level that it was actually kind of amusing. She started picking up the abandoned couch cushions and began making a little impromptu bed out of them beside the pullout bed. She had thought about putting her bed between the couch and the door, but decided against it. If anyone came through that door she'd rather let Johnny deal with it first. By being on the floor at the opposite side of the bed, she had a much better chance at sneaking away unnoticed.

It took a few minutes but she'd finally managed to get comfortable enough to start dozing off when Dr. Crane spoke up. "So are you ever going to tell me your real name?"

She sighed, "I don't know."

She could almost hear him raise an eyebrow, "You don't know if you're going to tell me your real name?"

She closed her eyes and stayed silent, hoping he'd think she'd fallen asleep. The sounds of shifting clothes and creaking springs greeted her ears. His voice was suddenly much closer. "I know you're still awake, my dear."

She opened her eyes and startled slightly, sitting up halfway. He was leaning over the edge of the bed, far too close for comfort, the moonlight creating shadows on his face that reminded her of a vampire.

She was mad at herself for letting him see her startled, so she grit her teeth and glared at him. "Do you ever sleep?"

He smiled, perfect white teeth glittering eerily in the moonlight. "Answer my question first."

She lay back down on the cushions and forced herself to relax despite the homicidal maniac hovering over her. "I don't know."

His eyes narrowed, "It's a very simple thing, my dear. Open your mouth, tell me your real name, avoid me torturing the answer out of you."

She looked away from those icy eyes. _Damn it, he's just not going to let this go. Time to try honesty._ "You can't torture the answer out of me because I don't know. I don't know my real name. My head is a jumble of names, characters and memories…"

"And you don't know which persona is the real one, because at times they all feel a little right and at other times they feel completely wrong. No wonder you were able to fool me for so long. You're so confused about your own identity that you were able to convince _yourself_ that you were Daphne Winston." He looked down at her with a smug expression. "It started to fall apart when something reminded you that Daphne wasn't the real you."

He studied her face for a moment waiting for a response. She looked him in the eyes for a moment and then looked away. "I think it might've been Dr. Quinzel, at least partly. Discussing the plans with her before we broke you and the Joker out…it reminded me of where my inspiration for Daphne came from."

Jonathan gave her a pleased look, "Now we're getting somewhere. With Harley around your Daphne persona began to feel false and you could no longer trick yourself into thinking it was real, creating the cracks in your performance."

She sighed and closed her eyes, "Now that the mystery has been solved will you please let me go to sleep?"

"No."

She kept her eyes closed and rolled over to face away from him. "You are every bit the monster they say you are."

He chuckled softly behind her, "Keeping you from sleeping is hardly the worst thing I've ever done to someone."

She rolled onto her back again so she could look at him, "What more do you want from me?"

He looked down at her calmly, "I refuse to call you by any of your false names. They are mere personas and don't accurately describe who you are. I am Dr. Jonathan Crane and I am the Scarecrow. A name for each side of my personality." He smiled thinly, "Actually it can be argued that I have two _distinct_ personalities, but thanks to the buckets of medication Arkham has pumped through my system the personalities are a bit blended at the moment."

She stared at him. She had no idea that he suffered from split personalities and she'd read his files. "They never mentioned that in your files."

"Because they're idiots. They didn't intentionally give me medication to suppress my other personality. They aren't even aware of it. They really didn't know how to treat me so they've been experimenting with a wide variety of treatments. The blending of my two personalities was just a side effect of those experiments. It won't last."

She raised an eyebrow, "So you mean in the not so distant future I'm going to have to deal with a version of you who's even worse?"

He grinned, "The three of us are going to have so much fun."

She frowned, "I think I actually liked you better when you were being moody and cranky. You happy is by far creepier."

He chuckled, "Now, we need to get back on topic. What shall we call you? Are any of your characters or personas evil?"

She rubbed her forehead, "When the messenger trains me to fight, he often tells me I'm a fury, sent from God to punish those who sin."

Jonathan scoffed, "No matter how good a fighter you may or may not be, we both know that anything the messenger calls you is false. He's trying to turn you into a soldier for his cause. One that you've already confessed not believing in."

She looked him in the eyes, her voice going soft. "And what is it you're trying to do?"

He leaned down a little closer, so his face was inches away. "I'm trying to pick apart your brain until I find something I like."

"If you didn't already like it, would you bother picking it apart?"

He smiled again, softer, almost seductive. The man was seriously invading her personal space. "I must confess I find your mind unusually fascinating. All the different personas floating around in your head…" He paused for a moment then pulled away, sitting back up on the bed with a pleased look on his face. "I have it."

She looked at him with a resigned expression. Her voice was flat, "Oh joy. What is it?"

"The only thing about you that we know for sure is that you're very good at being different people, making up characters. What defines you is the fact that you can't fully be defined. Always changing, always taking on a different _persona._" He looked at her thoughtfully, "It's rather perfect if you think about it."

She'd caught the emphasis, "Persona…I hate to admit it, but I actually kind of like it."

If possible Crane looked even more pleased with himself, "I knew you would."

With that he finally laid down. It wasn't long before his rhythmic breathing lulled her to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: Batman belongs to DC comics and Warner Bros._

_A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews they really help!_

Serial Killer

Detectives Nashton and Bullock walked into Commissioner Gordon's office, bright and far too early, looking rumpled and exhausted. It was pretty obvious they had been out searching for the Joker and Scarecrow since Commissioner Gordon had called them at 3 A.M. last night. They'd clearly made a stop at a donut shop on the way to work, both men were armed with coffees and Bullock held a box of donuts. Gordon noticed on closer inspection that Nashton had two coffees, _God I hope one of those are for me._

Nashton lifted one of the coffees in his direction, "Got you a coffee, sir. Two creams and one sugar is the way you like it right?"

Gordon leaned over his desk to take the coffee and gestured for them to have a seat in front of his desk, "You're a lifesaver, Nashton."

Bullock slumped into his chair and put the box of donuts on the desk, or more accurately, on top of one of the piles of papers and folders on the desk. "What about me? I brought breakfast."

Gordon chuckled and shook his head. "How did you two know I didn't have breakfast?"

Nashton shrugged, "When I sent you the message about my theory on Dr. Quinzel last night," he looked at his watch and groaned. "Or more accurately, earlier this morning, you said you'd be at your office doing research. Knowing how you tend to hole yourself up in here, we figured you might need a bite to eat."

Bullock pulled out a donut and took a bite, "Yeah and when junior agrees that donuts are a good idea, you know times are bad."

Nashton rolled his eyes, but also grabbed a donut. "To be honest I can't even remember the last time I ate."

Gordon grabbed a donut and started eating. For a few moments all three men were quiet, just giving the caffeine and sugar a chance to perk up their exhaustion. Nashton looked about ready to collapse face first on the desk and Bullock only slightly better. He turned to the younger detective, "Are you going to make it through the meeting, Nashton?"

The younger man straightened himself, "Sorry, I was doing research on the serial killer case until 2 A.M. last night, which gave me roughly an hour of sleep before you called."

Gordon leaned forward in his chair, "Any breakthroughs?"

Nashton ran his fingers through his already messy hair, "Nothing pressing and I don't know if that's a bad thing or a good thing. At the moment I think we'll have to push him aside and focus on the Joker and Scarecrow."

Gordon nodded, "I agree. On the bright side I think I might have something on that front."

Bullock put down his second donut and both men focused on the commissioner. Nashton got out his notepad and pen, "What did you find?"

"I did a little research on the missing women, Dr. Quinzel and Nurse Smith." He rifled through some papers on his desk, finding his notes on the doctor first. "Harleen Quinzel is basically fresh out of university. She actually put in a lot of effort to get into an internship at Arkham Asylum. Everyone I talked to from Arkham said she was always very friendly and her references all checked out. But a few did concede that she seemed a little too eager to get the Joker case. Most assumed, and this might not be far off, that her was hope working on such a famous case would help her career skyrocket."

Nashton shook his head in annoyance, "And the Arkham staff agreed to let her take the Joker case even though she was woefully inexperienced because?"

Gordon sighed, "That's the worst of it: The Joker had frightened off almost all the doctors who had tried to treat him. Dr. Quinzel was the first he actually seemed to get along with."

Nashton's frown deepened, "Probably because he knew she was inexperienced and could be manipulated."

The commissioner nodded, "That would be my guess, too."

Bullock crossed his arms, "So they basically gift wrapped a willing victim for him."

Nashton rubbed his chin, "What about the other woman, Bonnie Smith?"

Gordon pulled out his notes on Bonnie Smith, "At first everything seemed pretty on the level for Nurse Smith. She was pretty new to Arkham, been there only a couple weeks, but she was well liked by her co-workers. She was hired with enthusiastic recommendations by her references."

Bullock dusted some crumbs from his shirt, "You think maybe Quinzel lured her into a trap?"

Gordon shook his head, "No. I called as many of Dr. Quinzel's references as I could this morning, and believe me I got no shortage of angry voices since I started my calls at 6 A.M. But with Nurse Smith I only needed to call one."

Nashton gave him a puzzled look, "Why?"

Gordon smirked slightly and looked down at his notes, "The physical description of Nurse Smith given to me by staff at Arkham was female Caucasian, blue eyes, straight brown hair, 5'4, roughly 120 pounds. Her age is somewhere between 25-35 though most likely somewhere near the middle. The description of Nurse Smith given by her former co-worker from Central City Hospital was female Caucasian, brown eyes, silver hair, 5'8, roughly 250 pounds, age over 50."

Nashton quickly jotted some notes, "So we're dealing with a stolen identity."

Gordon nodded, "Once I realized that I got a few people to start looking for the real Bonnie Smith. Thankfully she's alive, healthy and retired in Tampa Bay, Florida. We warned her about the identity theft, but from what we can tell it was strictly stolen to infiltrate Arkham. Her finances have been untouched."

Nashton tapped his pen against his chin, "Whoever wanted to bust out the Joker and Scarecrow wanted them really badly. Stealing someone's identity, pretending to be a nurse for a couple weeks…that's some heavy-duty effort. Any idea who might've hired her?"

Gordon raised his eyebrows, "You don't think it was the Joker or Scarecrow?"

Nashton's eyes half closed in thought, "No, something doesn't seem right about that. Dr. Quinzel was already working with the Joker by the time Nurse Smith was hired. Why would he bother hiring someone else when he already had someone he was clearly planning to manipulate into helping him escape for free?"

Bullock shrugged, "Maybe it was the Scarecrow. He probably still has some mob connections, got them to send the fake nurse to help him out. He finds out about the Joker's escape plans or the other way around and they decide to join forces."

Nashton rubbed his forehead, "That's possible…So I guess today we get to go hunt down gangs that may be connected to the Scarecrow?"

Gordon sighed, "It's the only lead we have at the moment."

Nashton stood up. "I'll start making phone calls," he grinned impishly, "Because I'm sure there's nothing gun toting gangster lowlifes like better than getting phone calls from cops at 8:30 in the morning."

Bullock stood up too, "Ah tell 'em to suck it up. It's still a week day."

Nashton headed for the door, "Yeah wake them up _and_ give them attitude, that'll really endear me to them…"

Gordon chuckled as he watched the two bickering detectives leave. Days like this, where he felt like the city was about to topple down on him, he felt endlessly thankful for people like Nashton and Bullock.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dr. Crane woke up to the sound of a woman's cheerful, off-key humming. He put his arms over his head and groaned, "Persona, I swear if you don't shut up…"

An equally annoyed voice came from the floor beside him, "I slept on lumpy old cushions on the floor last night. Do you honestly think I'd wake up sounding perky?"

Before he could come up with a suitably cranky reply, Dr. Quinzel walked, no _skipped_, into the room. Her blonde hair, which had always been pinned up in a severe bun was now twisted into two messy pigtails. "Good morning sleepy heads! I was gonna make a run to the store to get some breakfast, anyone got a request?"

Crane growled and rolled to face away from her, "Yes, leave so I can go back to sleep."

He could hear the pout in Harley's voice, "Well someone's not a morning person!" She looked down at Daphne, "Anything you'd like Daphne?"

Jonathan interrupted, "Her name isn't really Daphne."

Harley gave the back of his head a confused look; "I know that, she explained all about it yesterday. Weren't you paying attention?"

Crane counted to five in his head before responding, "So why do you keep calling her Daphne?"

"What else am I gonna call her?" There was just a hint of annoyance in Harley's voice. Well, at least he was wrecking her mood.

He kept his back to her, shook his head into the pillow in disgust then spoke in a voice usually reserved for dim-witted three year olds. "Why don't you ask her?"

Harley stuck her tongue out at him then looked down at the sleepy brunette, "So what's your real name?"

"I can't remember my real name, Harley." She rubbed her forehead, "Scarecrow has decided to call me Persona."

Harley grinned, "As much as I hate liking _anything_ Johnny likes, I gotta admit that's a great name." She clapped her hands suddenly, "The Joker gave me a criminal name, too! Guess what it is!"

Jonathan was a bit amazed by Persona's patience with Quinzel; it was clear the other woman wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. "Well, the Joker dresses like a clown so…hm…" She smiled, "Oh it's so perfect! Your real name is already Harleen Quinzel, so all you need to do is change a couple letters and you're Harley Quinn. Like a harlequin clown…"

Jonathan had to admit the name really was perfect, but not out loud. "Can't you be 'the Mime'? Then I might be able to get some bloody sleep."

A loud yawn came from the hallway and everyone turned to see the Joker stretching in the doorway in nothing but boxers, a white t-shirt and his face paint. He grinned, "And I thought _I_ was a bad morning person."

Crane sighed. There was no way he was getting back to sleep now. He sat up and leaned against the wall, "I need coffee."

The Joker turned to Harley as if just remembering something, "What are you still doing here? I though_-t_ I told you to go get us something to eat."

Harley cringed a little, "Sorry Mistah J, I was asking them what they wanted when Johnny told me to stop calling Daphne, Daphne because it's not her real name…"

The Joker rubbed his face tiredly, smearing the makeup. "Harley, I'm homicidal at the best of times. Me in the morning without a coffee is most definitely not the best of times. Go. Get. Breakfast."

Harley seemed to deflate slightly, "Yes sir."

She hurried toward the door, but stopped once more and looked at Persona. "I found some ladies' clothes for ya to wear in Mistah J's closet and left them in the washroom cupboard with a towel."

Persona gave her a genuine smile, "Thanks Harley."

The blonde grinned and hurried out the door.

Jonathan lay back on the bed and put his arm over his eyes. "God I hate morning people." His brow furrowed, "Wait, why do you have women's clothing in your closet?"

The Joker shrugged, "Ya never know when it may be handy." He looked down at Persona. "So from Harley's ramblings it sounds like you've finally revealed your real name."

Before she could respond, Jonathan cut her off, his arm still over his eyes. "Actually, she's insane and has a number of identities in her head but she's not certain which one is the real her."

The Joker looked down at her grinned and wiggled his fingers on either side of his head, "Can't say I'm hugely surprised by the insane part."

She couldn't stop herself from smiling back, "Dr. Crane kept me up until the wee hours of the morning picking apart my brain and eventually decided to name me Persona."

The Joker raised an eyebrow and looked at the now smirking Jonathan, "If that's your after sex routine I can see why she spent the rest of the night on the floor." Jonathan's smirk instantly turned into a scowl and the Joker started laughing wildly.

Persona glared, "I have spent the _entire_ night on the floor and he has spent the _entire_ night on the bed."

The Joker shook his head and flopped onto the bed, lying right back and stretching his arms. He looked up at the scowling Scarecrow, who had pulled his legs up to his chest to avoid any physical contact with the Joker. The clown chuckled and shook his head. "Honestly, Johnny, I try to be nice and set you up for a homerun with a pretty lady and I bet you didn't even make it to first base. Shameful, I mean really."

Jonathan was too furious to form a coherent response. He felt like he was in high school all over again and Persona's outraged response didn't exactly help his bruised ego any.

She stood up angrily, "I am _not_ that kind of girl!"

The Joker rolled his eyes, "So you're OK with breaking out mass murderers from an insane asylum but you get all uppity about sex?"

Persona clenched her fists and he broke out into hysterical laughter all over again. She took a deep breath, "I'm taking a shower. This place does have running water, doesn't it?"

The Joker nodded still laughing too hard to speak. She stormed out of the room and slammed the washroom door. Jonathan waited until the Joker calmed down before he spoke, "Do you have any plans for today?"

The Joker looked up, his makeup was a smeared mess and his underclothes were rumpled. "Do I look like a guy with a plan?"

Jonathan smirked and shook his head, "I suppose not. But if that is the case, I do have a few things I want to accomplish today."

The Joker looked vaguely curious and smacked his lips, "Such as?"

Jonathan rubbed tiredly at his eyes, "I need to go to my apartment in the Narrows. The one I stayed in after I escaped from Arkham the first time. The police never found it and I hid my things far too well for any typical goon from the Narrows too find them."

The Joker raised an eyebrow, "You were caught months ago, before I even came onto the scene."

Jonathan shrugged, "Hardly any time went by between when I was caught and when you made your big entrance. Arkham barely had the chance to lock my cell before you started blowing up hospitals."

The Joker smiled wistfully, "Yeah those were good times. Still a couple months ago, though."

"My stuff will be there."

The Joker sat back up, "How much stuff are we talkin' about? Can you make it on your own?"

Crane paused thoughtfully, "I should be fine without help. It'll also be a lot less suspicious if I go on my own. The police will likely be looking for at least the two of us."

The Joker stood up and stretched again. "Alright let's see if there's anything in my closet for you to wear." He smirked down at Jonathan, "Though I doubt I've got anything hangin' around from when I was twelve."

Jonathan decided to ignore the bait, "Baggy clothes might be better anyways, and they'll hide my shape more."

Joker gestured for the ex-doctor to follow him into the bedroom. "Guess it doesn't matter what I hand you anyways, it's not like you can see anything." He looked back at the smaller man, "It must be hard to act tough as Scarecrow when you can't tell if you're threatening a drug dealer or a fire hydrant."

Jonathan's jaw clenched and it took him a moment to get it relaxed enough to speak. "I can see well enough without my glasses when I need to. I need them mostly for reading, writing and mixing together potentially deadly chemicals."

The Joker started going through his closet and tossing stuff out onto the floor, bed and any other available surface. "Why didn't you bring them with you when we left Arkham?"

Jonathan crossed his arms and sighed in annoyance, "I was only allowed to have my glasses under supervision: in the rec. room, the cafeteria and during therapy. They were afraid I might hurt myself or turn them into a dangerous weapon if I was left alone in my cell with them."

The Joker laughed once, sharp like an exclamation point, in response. Then he disappeared into the closet for a moment. "Ah ha. Try these on."

Jonathan swiftly caught the shoes Joker threw at his head. He was about to say something when the front door opened. Both men tensed until Harley's cheerful voice cut through the quiet, "Breakfast's here!"

"It's about time." The Joker grumbled and quickly left the room.

Jonathan sorted through the piles of clothing and managed to find a pair of jeans that were passable with the help of a belt, a plain white dress shirt and a pale gray sweater. It was all too big, but he was pleasantly surprised that it was clean so he couldn't really complain. The shoes would be a little awkward to walk in but he'd be able to manage until he reached his apartment. Jonathan left the bedroom and followed the smell of coffee and bacon into the kitchen.

The table was overloaded with grocery bags. Apparently, since no one had given Harley any suggestions on what to get from the store, she had decided to bring the store with her. However, it was Persona at the stove cooking, not Harley. The Joker had his face buried in a newspaper, occasionally marking it with a red pen.

The blonde grinned at the sight of him, "Aw you look like you went into Daddy's closet and played dress up!"

He glared at Harley but then noticed her clothing for the first time; she was wearing a baggy purple sweater over an ill-fitting white dress. The collar of the dress reminded him of a nurse's uniform. He smiled thinly, "I wouldn't throw stones if I were you, Dr. Quinzel."

She pouted, "It's Harley now."

Persona handed him a cup of coffee, "Milk and sugar are on the table."

He watched her move back to the stove and couldn't help snickering at her outfit. The Joker looked up and gestured at Persona, "That outfit's from the time I dressed like an old lady to spy on some mob guy at his favorite restaurant." He grinned, "It looked better on me."

The navy blue skirt had been lifted nearly to Persona's ribs and belted but it still dragged a little on the ground. The white blouse had so much lace around the collar and cuffs it looked like the slender woman was going to drown in it. Surprisingly, Persona said nothing, instead placing plates loaded with eggs, bacon, sausage and pancakes onto the table.

Harley grinned and gestured to the food, "See this is why I told ya to let Persona cook. She always made everyone at Arkham jealous when she brought out her lunch."

Joker grunted around a mouthful of bacon, "Oh it's so crispy…"

Persona smiled as she finally sat down, "Ah bacon, meat's answer to candy."

Jonathan took a bite of pancake. "Did you put strawberries, in these?"

She looked up, "You don't like them?"

He swallowed before answering. Unlike the Joker he did have some manners. "If you cook like this all the time, I might not end up killing you."

Persona looked quite proud of herself, "I love cooking."

It was a weirdly domestic scene with Harley and Persona chattering while eating and the Joker reading the paper while he ate. He was relieved that the clown seemed to be in a good mood. It meant that there was less of a chance he'd return from the Narrows to find one of the women dead. Not that he hadn't killed or tried to kill women in the past. He'd certainly been ready to kill that stubborn, self-righteous Rachel Dawes, regardless of how pretty she was. No, he just didn't want Persona or Harley dead because…well Quinzel's death would undoubtedly hurt Persona and…He shook his head and stood up from the table.

"I'm heading to the Narrows, don't expect me back for at least a few hours, it's a bit of a trip from here."

Joker looked over the edge of his paper, "Give him some money Harley-girl he'll need bus fare."

Harley reached into her purse and handed Jonathan some change.

"Thanks." He slipped the money into his pocket, took one last look at domesticity and walked out the door.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There's a split second moment when someone attacks your partner and you have to decide if you'll go for your gun and risk shooting them or drop your gun, catch your partner and risk losing the criminal. Detective Bullock dropped his gun and caught Nashton as the younger cop stumbled backwards into his chest. The big, muscle-bound thug who had just hit Eddie with a two-by-four dropped the wood and dove for the gun, but to Bullock's surprise Nashton slipped out of his grip and got to it first. He landed on his hands and knees, one hand just wrapping around the gun before the thug landed on him hard, slamming him down into the concrete. Nashton's cry of pain snapped Bullock out of his shock and he reached down and grabbed the thug by the back of the coat, trying to pull him off of his partner.

The creep gave up trying to reach the gun, which Eddie had managed to slide away from him. Instead he wrapped his hands around the smaller cop's throat, starting to strangle him. "Let me go fat-boy or I swear I'll snap your little buddy's neck like a stick."

Detective Harvey Bullock wasn't known for being a friendly guy, in fact, most would say he was a little hot tempered. He didn't handle death threats to his partner very well, not at all. He let go of the thug and backed up a couple steps. The creep kept his hands around Nashton's neck but loosened his grip so the cop beneath him could get a _little_ air. The thug turned with a triumphant smirk on his face just in time to see the two-by-four coming at him.

It slammed into the creep hard, throwing him off of Nashton. Without the other man holding him up by the throat, the smaller cop collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath and coughing. The thug started to stand up but Bullock brought the two-by-four down hard again. Unfortunately, the man was able to spin around in time to catch the wood. The two struggled over the weapon. Bullock was bigger weight wise but the other man was healthier and more muscular, the only real advantage Bullock had was the fact the creep was probably still a bit dizzy. The thug finally saw an opening when he noticed the smaller cop, just starting to crawl back onto his knees, was close enough to take hostage again. He pushed Bullock away long enough to grab the wounded cop roughly by the arm. The thug pulled the man to his feet and noticed the gun still in his holster, forgotten thanks to the head injury, and tried to grab it. The smaller cop managed to twist his body so the weapon was out of reach. It gave Bullock a chance to move towards them and the creep realized he wouldn't be able to get the gun in time. He threw Nashton to the ground hard at Bullock's feet and started to run for it.

Nashton groaned, hands on his head, but looked up at him, "Go, go!"

Bullock started running but stopped as he watched the thug quickly hop over a fence at the end of the alleyway. His breath was already coming out in puffs, "Yeah that's not happening, kid."

Bullock had to admit he was pretty impressed Nashton was still conscious. He'd just taken one hell of a beating. A guy Eddie's size could've been out for days after something like that. "I'll give you credit, Nashton, you can sure take a hit."

The younger detective looked a little surprised. Bullock usually used nicknames on his partner to get a rise out of him, but after what just happened he felt a little guilty. After all, it was kind of his fault Nashton got so roughed up in the first place. Least he could do was give the guy a little respect.

Nashton smiled wryly, "Years of practice." He pulled his hands away from his face. "I can't open my left eye. How does it look?"

The skin on the left side of Eddie's face from his temple to part of his forehead, his cheekbone and all around the eye was already swelling badly and beginning to turn various shades of purple, black and blue. "You're not gonna be winning any beauty pageants any time soon." The guilt got a little worse, "Guess I should've warned you that crooks don't pull their punches for cops here in Gotham."

"I'll remember for next time." Nashton slowly stumbled to his feet and started heading for the squad car, "I really want this day to be over."

Bullock jogged a few steps to catch up to him. It wasn't really in his gruff nature to be nice to people, but the kid was kind of growing on him. He was about to pat Nashton on the back but then remembered how the thug had slammed into him. Bullock winced, deciding to stick with words, "Hey, ya did good today, kid. Sure you look like you got hit by a train right now," he was pleased to notice Nashton chuckle, "but on the bright side we made a lot of progress."

Bullock noticed there was beginning to be a slight sway to Nashton's walk, so he put his hand on the kid's shoulder and guided him to the passenger's door. He leaned the kid against the car, opened the door and helped him in. After closing the door he walked around to the driver's side and sat down heavily.

Nashton leaned the back of his head on the headrest and closed his eyes. "We still have no clue where the Joker and Scarecrow are."

Bullock wasn't used to being the optimistic one, "Maybe not, but now we know Carmine Falcone's people want the Scarecrow dead. Whether it's true that his little girl Sophia is the new head of the family or not doesn't really matter. The fact that she blames Scarecrow for turning her 'Poppa' into a raving lunatic does." Nashton turned his face towards Bullock but said nothing. Bullock frowned slightly but continued, "_And_ you found out some of Maroni's people are blaming the Joker for his death. Knowing who they're enemies are is just as important as knowing their friends."

Nashton closed his eyes again, "We've gotta find them before the mob does. Otherwise there might not be anything left of them _to_ find."

Bullock started the car. "Yeah I'll try to control my tears at their funerals." Nashton chuckled softly and Bullock grinned, "Come on kid, let's get you back to police headquarters to put some ice on that face of yours."


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: Batman belongs to DC Comics and Warner Bros._

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews everybody, they really inspire me *hint, hint*_

Serial Killer

Harley watched as Persona carefully washed the dishes, setting each one gently into the drying rack. It was Harley's job to dry the pans too big to fit into the rack but she was already done. Now she was sitting backwards in one of the kitchen chairs, her chin resting on her arms, which were folded on top of the chair's back. Mistah J had changed into his handsome purple suit and was busy planning stuff. He'd roughly tossed her out of the living room when she'd tried to help, so she decided to stay with Persona in the kitchen instead. Harley didn't blame the Joker for being mad at her though, he had been so sweet and wonderful to her the night before, when they had finally gotten the chance to be alone together. She sighed dreamily, a small smile crossing her lips. It had been everything she'd dreamed about and more…

A strange almost mechanical voice broke her thoughts, "This is NASA control calling Harley Quinn. Come in Harley Quinn. Do you plan on returning from space anytime soon?"

Harley looked up to see Persona looking at her. The brunette's hands were cupped around her mouth to alter her voice and gave the illusion that she was speaking through a mechanical device. She sounded like one of the ride controller's at an amusement park. "It appears that Harley Quinn has returned safely to Earth. Harley Quinn, have you really returned to us?"

Harley giggled, "Cut that out!"

Persona lowered her hands and grinned. "Where did you go off to?"

Harley bit her bottom lip, an almost shy smile on her face, "I was thinkin' of me and Mistah J last night…"

"Never mind, I don't wanna know!" She raised her hands in mock surrender.

Harley laughed, "Oh we're all gonna have so much fun together!"

A shadow seemed to cross Persona's face for a moment, her previous cheerfulness turning into something more serious, more concerned. The brunette pulled a chair next to Harley's and sat down, crossing her legs a little awkwardly under the far too big skirt.

"Harley, I think we need to have a little talk."

The blonde's eyes widened. She knew that tone of voice; she'd heard it a million times in the past, though this was the first time she'd heard Persona use it. This was the 'I have bad news' voice. Harley squirmed uncomfortably in her seat and shook her head.

Persona sighed softly, "Harley, please, listen. You know this isn't going to last, don't you?"

Harley felt her already wide eyes start to well up, just a bit. "Mistah J said I'd be his girl forever."

Persona winced, "Harley, the Scarecrow and I…"

Before Persona could continue Harley let out a relieved laugh, "Oh I get it! I thought you were gonna say that Mistah J and I weren't gonna last! But I understand, I really do. You and the doctor don't know each other as well as Mistah J and me. You need to go out on your own and uh, get 'acquainted.'" Harley made little air quote gestures with her fingers. "I guess it must be a little intimidating to try starting a new relationship when you're constantly faced with an established one…"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Persona tried to hide the shock from her face. It was truly amazing to her that a woman as intelligent as Harley could take an idea and run joyfully in the opposite direction of where Persona was trying to lead her. She swallowed and tried to think of the gentlest way of breaking Harley's bubble. The blonde was still cheerfully babbling about her thoughts on Scarecrow and how best to seduce him.

"…So I think maybe because he's so pretty he feels a bit intimidated by women, especially a gal as independent and stuff as you are. You'll probably need to act a bit extra girly around him so he can feel like the big tough man…"

"Um Harley? That's not exactly what I was getting at."

Harley gave her a baffled look, "Huh?"

"What I was going to say is that the Scarecrow and I aren't…" Persona felt incredibly awkward, "um, _romantically interested_. The first time I met him I was trying to lure him into a trap that would end with him being forced to give a serial killer the recipe for his fear toxin and then probably get horribly murdered. Now, I admit, from the very beginning, even before I actually met Dr. Crane, I had planned on asking the serial killer to have mercy on Scarecrow and just send him back to Arkham, but still. Add on top of that all the lies…Scarecrow doesn't strike me as the forgiving type."

Harley gave her a condescending smile and an affectionate pat on the knee, "You're not very good with men are you?"

Persona's mouth dropped a bit, closed, dropped and finally she spoke in a stunned voice, "I don't know, I can't remember."

Harley grinned, "That's OK I can teach you all about them! I am a psychiatrist after all."

Suddenly the Joker burst into the room, "OK ladies I have to head out for a bit. Business…" He gestured vaguely with one purple gloved hand and smiled down at them, "Which, of course, means that we're gonna have to tie up our little friend here." He grinned at Persona and put his hand on the back of her chair.

Harley looked up at him in surprise, "But why?"

The Joker pursed his lips in frustration then roughly stroked the top of the blonde's head in a mockery of a comforting gesture. "Because Harley-girl I don't trust you not to let Persona out of your sight unless she's tied up."

Harley's mouth opened again to protest but his grip tightened on her hair and she let out a pathetic whimper instead.

Persona knew there was no getting out of this, "I don't mind getting tied up Joker, but can I go to the little villainesses' room first? I'm a little embarrassed to say I don't have the strongest of bladders."

Her self-deprecating humor seemed to put the Joker at ease and he gestured towards the washroom. "Be my guest."

She wished that she had some brilliant plan that involved getting something from the washroom in order to ready her escape, but the fact of the matter was she really did just want to go before getting tied up. The last thing she needed was the humiliation of wetting herself before the Joker or Scarecrow got back. When she got out of the washroom the Joker grabbed her by the wrist and roughly hauled her into the living room. She noticed the bed had been folded back into a couch.

To her embarrassment the Joker began feeling around her clothes, roughly sticking his hands into the skirt's pockets, feeling around her blouse, then stroking his hands down her skirt several times. She looked up at Harley and noticed the other woman looked almost jealous of the Joker's attention. Persona resisted the urge to roll her eyes, _He's just checking for weapons, Harley. Besides, you're blonde, chesty and prettier than I could ever hope to be._

Satisfied, the clown dragged her over to the couch and sat her down. He stepped back, cocked his head to the side and then shook it. "That won't work," he mumbled. He looked at her face, "Lie down and raise your hands above your head."

Persona did as she was told, lying across the couch with her arms above her head and her legs stretched out. It was a long enough couch that her wrists were comfortably supported by one armrest while the other supported her feet. The Joker smiled, "Whaddya know? Perfect fit!"

He went to a pile of ropes on the floor, something he must've brought in while she was in the washroom, and pulled out a few long pieces. He moved to her wrists and began wrapping one of the pieces around them. She was a little surprised that he was being fairly careful. She had braced herself for pain, but though he tied her wrists together firmly, the ropes weren't painfully tight. He had wrapped her wrists in the middle of the rope so that each loose end could be tied to legs on that side of the couch. Once that was done, he tied her ankles together in the same way.

Harley watched in silence the entire time. When the Joker stood up he looked down at the blonde and grinned, "Now, now, Harley-girl no need to be jealous." He ran gloved fingertips along her cheek and she closed her eyes in anticipation. He leaned close to her ear and spoke in a deep, soft voice, "When I tie you up, you'll be naked."

Harley shivered and the Joker wrapped his arms around her, dipping her back into an over-the-top romantic kiss. Persona turned her head away and tried to block out the sounds the two were making. When the Joker finally lifted Harley up out of her 'swoon' position, the young woman's face was flushed and happy looking.

The Joker smirked but Harley didn't notice, she just saw a smile on his face. "Now Harley, you'll do your Mistah J a favor and keep an eye on our little couch potato while I'm gone, hmm?"

She smiled at him adoringly, "Sure thing."

He held up a finger in warning, "She's not allowed to be untied for any reason until I get back," he paused, thinking about it. "If the Scarecrow returns first and she really, really has to go pee or something, he's allowed to untie her. But NOT you, got it?"

Harley nodded, "Anything you say Mistah J, I promise!"

"Good girl," he patted her on the cheek. Then he turned and looked down at the grumpy looking couch potato, "Don't you worry, sweetie, I'm sure when the good doctor gets back, you'll get your share of kisses." He gave her a wink then walked out the door.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There was nothing Edward Nashton wanted to do more than go home and get some sleep. Instead, he was at the hospital after passing out in the car while Bullock had been driving them over to GCPD headquarters. A part of him was kind of glad he'd been unconscious when he'd been brought to the hospital, the thought of Bullock carrying him in his arms like a passed out damsel in distress was more than a little embarrassing. Moments ago he'd woken up in the hospital bed with an older, gray haired doctor hovering over him and Bullock not far behind. At the moment he didn't really have the energy to sit up or even answer their questions, which for reasons his fuzzy mind couldn't quite get seemed to upset Detective Bullock. Currently his partner was worriedly pestering the doctor.

"So you're sure there's nothin' wrong with his head? I mean, why would he pass out if nothin' was wrong with his head?" Bullock's voice sounded cocky as ever, as if he knew better than the doctor.

"There's no permanent damage, Detective Bullock. The head injuries Detective Nashton sustained were enough to cause him to feel dizzy and faint but he'll fully recover in a day or two." The doctor's voice was incredibly calm, clearly, he was used to dealing with men like Bullock.

"What about his ribs? You said something about his ribs."

The doctor sighed, "Detective Nashton has a few hairline fractures on a couple of his ribs, undoubtedly due to his attacker slamming him into the ground from behind. They aren't fully broken though and with a little bed rest they'll heal up just fine." The doctor gave Bullock a reassuring smile, "Your partner is young and healthy. Just make sure he doesn't do too much strenuous activity and he'll be good as new in no time."

A knock at the door cut off Bullock before he could reply. The doctor turned and opened it. Commissioner Gordon stood in the doorway holding a briefcase. "I came as quickly as I could. Where's Nashton?"

The doctor gestured to the bed, "He's awake but still not fully responsive. I'm fairly certain part of the reason he's been affected so badly by the head injury is due to lack of sleep and pushing himself beyond his endurance."

The commissioner looked relieved, "The way you sounded on the phone Bullock, I thought Nashton was at death's door."

Bullock winced, "Sorry, Commish, they took him on a gurney and told me they were doing all kinds of tests…" He rubbed the back of his neck, "I wasn't sure what to make of it."

Despite the fading confusion in his head, Nashton was able to put the clues together at last. Bullock's initial attempts to belittle and frustrate Eddie, the older man's grudging respect for his partner's intelligence, the slow turn from mocking each other to brotherly teasing, the rage he went into against Eddie's attacker, all lead to his strange, mother hen behavior now. Nashton wasn't certain, but he'd be willing to bet that Bullock's last partner had been killed in the line of duty, and the survivor had wanted to avoid that pain happening again.

Eddie's suspicions were fueled by the look of pity on Gordon's face as he listened to Bullock. The commissioner nodded at the big man, gave him a pat on the shoulder and then moved over to Eddie's bedside. The hospital gown had revealed some awful scrapes and bruises on his arms and he had the feeling that most of his body, including his face, wasn't much better.

Gordon shook his head, "You've had a hell of a day, haven't you?"

Eddie gave a small smile. He wanted to speak but found himself too tired. It was strange to him; he'd been able to talk right after the incident. Why was he worse off now?

As if reading his mind, Bullock asked the question for him, "He was able to talk when it first happened, why is he worse now?"

The doctor shrugged, "His body was likely pumped full of adrenaline after the fight. Now that it's calmed, exhaustion and pain have taken their toll. On top of that, we can't really give him any painkillers to help him, due to both the nature of his injuries and of his other medication. We'll keep him overnight, just to be safe, but I'm sure he'll be fine in the morning. If you'll excuse me, I have other patients."

Gordon nodded, "Thank you, doctor."

The doctor left and Gordon turned to Bullock, "You're wondering what the doctor meant by 'his other medication' aren't you?"

Eddie would guess by the look on Bullock's face that the big cop hadn't really thought about it. Bullock's brows furrowed, "What did he mean by that?"

Gordon sighed and pulled out a folder from his briefcase, "I brought this in case the doctor's needed further information about Nashton, but since they seem to have things under control, I think maybe you should read it."

Bullock looked even more confused, "Nashton's file?"

Eddie moaned from the bed. Just when it seemed he was getting some respect from Bullock, Gordon decided to give the man a glimpse of Eddie's personal file. Both healthy cops turned to look at him.

Bullock frowned, "I bet junior doesn't want me reading this. So unless there's something in here that might cost me or him our lives…"

Gordon smiled slightly, "No there isn't. I just thought it might answer your questions about his medication."

The big cop turned to look down at Nashton, "Nah. When he gets better he can tell me. Right Eddie?"

The panic eased out of him and he gave a small smile before drifting back into sleep.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jonathan Crane entered his old apartment warily. Even in his disguise he was half expecting police officers to jump out at him and drag him kicking and screaming back to Arkham. The place was empty. There were no police officers, vengeful mobsters or even squatters in the place. There was also no furniture or clothing left. Crane smiled to himself. The furniture he couldn't care less about, it wasn't like he would've dragged it all the way back to the Joker's place anyways. He wasn't thrilled that his closets had been emptied, but the suits that had been hanging there weren't his favorites anyways. His favorites had been carefully hidden with his other personal artifacts.

Jonathan stood in the doorway and looked down at the floorboards. He took twelve carefully measured steps forward, then eight to the left and crouched down. He carefully felt around the floorboard until his finger hit a tiny notch in the wood at the edge of the board. He hooked his middle fingernail into it and carefully lifted the board. Instead of putting it aside, he lowered the board into the hole and heard the snap of several mousetraps going off. Crane was no idiot. He was well aware that getting snapped at by mousetraps, although extremely painful, would not keep a determined thief out. In fact, it would likely be a sign to them that he was hiding something of great value. Which was why there was a small vial of liquid fear toxin carefully set on each trap. When the traps snapped on unwary fingers they would also break the vials sending small shards of glass and big drops of fear toxin directly onto the wounded fingers. Luckily for Crane, the board took all the damage from the traps and he was able to safely reach under the floor to the latch that would allow him to lift open four more boards.

In the back of his head Jonathan heard a faint whisper, _Scarecrow._ The ex-doctor smiled. He had hoped that the site of the emergency pack would help his other half awaken from the forced hibernation Arkham's drugs had put upon him. Crane reached down and lifted a duffle bag out of the hole in the floor. The bottom was lined with his favorite suits, important as much to protect the other contents of the bag as for their own sake. An extra pair of shoes, several carefully wrapped bottles of chemicals, three lab journals, two extra pairs of glasses, a couple of his wrist dispensers, a few packages of his toxin in powdered form and his mask filled the bag.

Jonathan swiftly removed the Joker's hand me down shoes and put on his own pair. As much as he would've liked to put on one of his suits, it was still daylight and he'd be far less recognizable in the ordinary, baggy clothes he'd borrowed from the Joker than in his own clothes. Besides, a guy in a suit carrying a large duffel bag would seem much more strange than a guy in jeans and a plain gray sweater. While it was a little risky, he couldn't resist putting on a pair of his glasses. It wasn't that he couldn't get around without them, he had to when he was wearing his mask, but he did see better when they were on and his eyes felt strained when he didn't wear them for long periods of time. He checked if his wrist dispensers were full and then strapped one on. The baggy sweater easily hid it. Finally, he put the floorboards back in place and left the apartment.

No one looked at him twice as he walked down the street carrying his heavy duffle bag. Though he was a slender man he was stronger than he looked and it didn't strain him too much to carry it over his shoulder. This way if he did happen upon any trouble he'd be able to quickly lift his wrist and disperse his gas. Not ideal, since he wasn't wearing his mask, but he'd be able to move away in time to avoid being affected. Luckily for the slime of Gotham no one tried to attack him. He was even able travel on public transit in broad daylight back to the Joker's hideout without anyone noticing him.

However, upon entering the clown's lair he was a little surprised by the welcome he received.

"Oh thank God, you're back!" Persona cried out from the couch. He turned towards her and chuckled. She was lying on her back and firmly tied by the wrists and ankles to the couch legs. Harley was sitting on the floor in front of her with a pile of cards spread out between them.

Harley beamed up at him, "Hiya Dr. Crane! Do you mind untying Persona, now? She's gotta go to the uh, little villainesses' room."

Jonathan frowned, "Why was she tied up in the first place?"

Persona squirmed, "Harley can explain after you untie me. I've been lying here for _hours_ waiting for one of you to get back."

Jonathan smiled pleasantly down at her, "Surely you can wait a few more moments while Harley reassures me that the Joker won't gut me for letting you go."

Harley's face went serious and she held up her hand as though taking an oath, "I solemnly swear that Mistah J said that I wasn't allowed to untie Persona until you or he got back. He said he didn't trust me to watch her unless she was tied up." Harley gave a mischievous grin, "But he knows he can trust you not to take your eyes off her!"

Crane snorted at Harley's childish innuendo, but bent next to Persona and began untying the rope that held her wrists. "Harley, you can untie her ankles."

The ditzy blonde, it became harder and harder for Crane to remember she'd once been a doctor, swiftly moved to the other woman's ankles and began untying the rope. They had barely finished when Persona jumped up, ran to the washroom and shouted, "Thank you!"

Harley bit her lip, "I probably shouldn't' have given her so much soda, but we were both so thirsty and I thought it'd be mean to drink in front of her."

Jonathan shoved the ropes off the couch and sat down. "Where did the Joker go?"

Harley shrugged, "He said he had to do business, but that he'd be back tonight."

"Hmm I would think he's lost the good will of the mob and gangs at this point."

Persona re-entered the room. "Where could he go in broad daylight dressed in his costume? I mean I assume there was a car in the garage he took, but still. Anyone who looked inside would freak out if they saw the driver."

Crane stretched his arms across the back of the couch, stretching his legs out in front and crossing them at the ankles. He felt great. His fear toxin and lab journals were back in his possession, the Arkham meds were finally making their way out of his system, he could feel the Scarecrow recovering in his mind and Persona had thanked God he'd returned. Well that last was mostly because she knew he'd untie her, but he was fairly certain she'd be much less relieved to see the Joker. If anyone else in Gotham showed relief that it was the Scarecrow and not the Joker they were facing he'd be furious. With her, he felt oddly proud. Of course, there was nothing else to it.

He tilted his head slightly to the side when he heard the Scarecrow's soft, mocking chuckle echoing from the back of his mind.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Louie Stone knew he was in trouble. He'd kicked the shit out of a cop today. In the old days of Gotham, that wouldn't be such a big deal, but nowadays…well there were two vigilantes running around and one of them had a habit of cutting people up into so much dog food. The GCPD had already released a police sketch of his face to the public and it was already all over the news. He knew better than to go back to his bosses. They'd be almost as furious at him as the cops. Sure he hadn't answered any of their questions but reacting as badly to them as he did was a pretty hefty clue. Had it just been him and the big cop it wouldn't have gotten so out of hand. The big cop didn't really ask any dangerous questions, but the little cop…he was smart. The little cop just seemed to have this talent for wrapping him up in words, confusing him and pulling answers out of him before he even knew what he was saying. Maybe that was why he'd been so hard on the little cop. When he'd hit him with that two by four he'd thrown everything he had into it. Yet the little rat didn't stay down. Louie had tackled him, strangled him, thrown him to the ground, but he'd stayed conscious.

Apparently, the conscious part had only lasted when Louie was around. The cop had been carried unconscious into one of Gotham's remaining hospitals.

So now Louie was hiding out in his tiny, rundown apartment, waiting for the hammer to fall. He stared out his window through his closed blinds and watched as the sun began to set. He broke away from the window and started to pace back and forth. This was stupid. Why would the bat or that other crazy killer come after him? It's not like the cop was dead. Hell, if the rumors were true the Batman had killed his own share of cops. Not only that, but he'd heard the cop he'd beaten up was on the serial killer case. That serial killing asshole owed him! The cop was good; he might've solved the case if it weren't for him…He swallowed. If he'd gone easy on the little cop he'd be up and searching for the serial killer and the Batman instead of helpless in a hospital bed.

Louie was looking out the window for the hundredth time when the front door crashed inward. He turned toward the sound as a tall man burst into the room. Louie pulled his gun with both hands, but a flash of metal came swinging towards him. He shrieked as his hands were cut off with one swoop of the other man's weapon. He stumbled backwards, pain and horror blocking his brain from any thoughts besides the instinctive need to escape. The sword was raised again and again, until even instincts abandoned him.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Batman and all related characters are the property of DC Comics and Warner Bros. Persona is my property.

A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed! Those who didn't can expect visits from Serial Killer, Joker or Scarecrow. They will not be fluffy.

Serial Killer

There was writing on the wall. It was surprisingly neat and easy to read given that it was done in blood. Commissioner Gordon stared up at the writing and wished, not for the first time on this case, that he could invite Batman to the crime scene the way he did before the Harvey Dent incident. Around him police officers and technicians bustled, taking pictures, collecting evidence. The rest of the apartment was fairly typical of the serial killer's previous crimes: the victim hacked to pieces, nothing missing and blood everywhere, but it was the writing on the wall that had him worried. He wrote the words into his notebook to give to Batman, along with any other details he thought might be important.

The commissioner gave a few last directions to his people than quickly left the apartment. He looked around to make sure no one noticed and then swiftly went up the stairs. The Batman would be waiting for him. Gordon opened the door that led to the rooftop and walked out, searching the area for a sign of cape.

"Over here."

Gordon turned in the direction of the Batman's whispered growl. He finally caught sight of the dark knight in the shadows of the fire escape on the taller building next door. "I don't suppose you were able to take a glance through the window?"

"No. Too many nervous eyes looking around."

Gordon sighed, "You can't really blame them for being nervous considering what's in there."

Batman looked down at Gordon's notebook, "Same as the other crime scenes?"

"Actually, no." Gordon opened his notebook to the page where he'd copied the writing on the wall and handed it to Batman.

Batman took it silently and read the contents. "The killer is changing his own rules." Batman handed the notebook back. "I did some research on the victim, he was a thug, but there were no previous charges or accusations of murder."

Gordon shook his head, "Any violence against women?"

Batman shook his head a fraction, "This guy was fairly new. He'd gotten into some fights, roughed up a few people for the mob, but nothing as serious as the other criminals."

A little wave of anger washed through Gordon, "No I suppose beating a cop half way to death isn't all that serious."

Batman was quiet for a moment, "I wasn't including the incident with Detective Nashton."

Gordon sighed and shook his head, "I know you weren't, I'm sorry. It just has me worried that the writing on the wall singled out Nashton. How did the killer know Nashton was working on his case? And the Joker and Scarecrow cases as well? Why single out Nashton specifically? Is it just because he was attacked or is there something else?"

Batman shifted, "The attack on Nashton happened early in the evening, too late for the six o'clock news but plenty of time for the eleven o'clock. Nashton's move from Bolton to Gotham was well advertised because of his reputation. It would be natural for the serial killer to assume the detective was on his case."

Gordon's brows furrowed, "Wouldn't that give him a reason to want Nashton out of the picture?"

Batman frowned, "The writing suggested he wanted a truce. I think he doesn't want to go up against the Joker and Scarecrow on his own."

A strange thought crossed Gordon's mind, "If that's the case, why doesn't he try to get you on his side? You're both vigilantes."

Batman smirked slightly, "My reputation in Gotham is too ambiguous. While some people think I was framed, most think I'm a murderer. Nashton is a safer bet for the killer."

"We've got guards in his hospital room and the doctors said he should be fine by morning."

"Have you told him about this yet?"

Gordon felt a wry smile tug at his lips, "I figured waking him up at three in the morning with another murder, one that was for all intents and purposes committed for _him_, might not help with his recovery."

Batman smirked again, "Good call. If he's healthy enough tomorrow though, he needs to be told. We have to assume that the killer has been keeping an eye on him."

Gordon swallowed, looking down at the notebook in his hands. "Of course…" He looked up again when he heard the near silent swoop of Batman's cape, but the dark knight was already gone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The little bungalow that the Joker had made into his hideout had a great basement, or at least a great basement for a mad scientist. It had stone floors, bare brick walls, small high windows, which Dr. Crane had opened to allow for some ventilation, and a large table where the ex-doctor had set up his equipment. Dr. Crane had only relaxed for a few minutes after releasing Persona from her ropes, than he had dragged her and Harley downstairs to help him clean the basement enough for him to work. When the Joker had gotten back he had dragged the women back upstairs to cook dinner, or more accurately, for Persona to cook dinner and for Harley to make sure nothing was poisoned. Jonathan had come upstairs to eat and discuss a few plans, which Persona and Harley had not been allowed to listen to, and then he'd hurried downstairs again.

Persona didn't really want to intrude on the crazy doctor's personal space, but the Joker had suggested that she might want to hangout with Scarecrow while he and Harley re-enacted tying her up. The leer on his face had sent her running down the stairs faster than any of his knives could. The Joker's laughter could still be heard from somewhere in the house.

Dr. Crane sighed in annoyance, "What did you do? Why is the Joker laughing like that?"

Persona warily moved to the opposite side of the table. "The Joker is tying up Harley."

Dr. Crane looked confused, "What for?" He suddenly smirked, "Ah never mind. Your look of embarrassed horror tells me all I need to know."

Persona frowned at him. "I'm going to end up sleeping under this table tonight."

He shrugged his shoulders and went back to carefully mixing something in a little glass tube. "I suppose if it's good enough for the spiders, it's good enough for you."

"Gee thanks." She glanced at him, "Nothing phases you does it?"

He looked up at her calmly, "Are you referring to the possibility of sleeping with spiders or to what the Joker and Harley are doing upstairs?"

She dragged an old wooden chair from one of the corners, wiggled it to test sturdiness and then sat down. "Well, either, I guess."

Dr. Crane placed the test tube into a holder with several other tubes and gave her a cold, calculating look. She managed not to squirm under his gaze, but she broke eye contact. Instead she focused on a weird stain on the wooden table in front of her.

She didn't need to see the look on his face. The soft, low sound of his voice was squirm worthy enough. "Are you afraid of intimacy, my dear? Do you consider the thought of two people being together as unpleasant as spiders?"

She glared at him, "Maybe I just think spiders get a bad rap."

He took off his glasses and placed them gently on the table. His eyes seemed almost fever bright and there was something about his smile that made her skin crawl. "Would you like to know what I think?"

She straightened in her chair and watched him warily as he approached her. "Not particularly."

The smile turned into a full grin. She'd never seen him look like this before. Instead of stopping to stand beside her, he moved behind her and placed both hands on her shoulders. Every muscle in her body clenched, but she refused to say anything.

"Oh my, aren't you _tense_." He began to gently but firmly rub her shoulders. "As I was trying to say, I think you have a fear of intimacy. Now, considering you have no memory, or so you say, I'm guessing this little fear was somehow instigated by our friend the messenger?"

She was silent for a moment. As much as she hated to admit it, the shoulder rub was beginning to feel really good. He squeezed the back of her neck, which also felt good, but it reminded her that she was supposed to answer. "He and his doctor always told us that a woman's body is a temple and that as his disciples we shouldn't let ourselves be corrupted by men. That those… types of things would taint us."

Jonathan snorted, "I thought you didn't believe any of his ridiculous religious teachings."

She leaned her head back slightly and tried to give him a confident smirk. "I guess something about my body being a place of worship appealed to my ego."

He smiled down at her, clearly seeing past her phony confidence. "No it's more than that, isn't it? A part of you really does believe what he was telling you."

Persona swallowed and looked down, "I don't know. I…I owe them my life…"

Jonathan's hands stilled, "Were they as fun as we are?"

She looked up at him, her eyes suspicious. "You're not talking about the Joker and Harley are you?"

The creepy grin returned to his face and he shifted his body to the side so he could lean down. His fever bright eyes were only inches away from hers. "Johnny told you about me, didn't he?"

She raised her eyebrows, "Only briefly. I think he said you like to be called the Scarecrow, is that right?"

"Indeed I do." He sat on the table and looked down at her. "Now lets get back on topic, shall we?"

She sat back and crossed her arms, "Let's not."

The Scarecrow rolled his eyes, "Now, now don't be stubborn. I think we can make a lot of progress with your issues…" He gave her a lecherous grin, "In fact I can think of all kinds of creative ways we can _cure_ you."

She glanced quickly towards one of the windows and slowly pushed her chair back. He chuckled, "You'd never make it, my dear. I'd catch you before you could open the window. Besides I don't think you'd fit even if you did make it."

Persona scowled at him. The jerk was right. Her shoulders were too broad to fit through such a narrow opening. She couldn't go upstairs, the Joker would probably just laugh and push her back down the stairs. "If you touch me I'll kick you square in the balls."

He smirked, "I've already touched you, and you seemed to like it."

A shiver went up her spine. "I want Jonathan back."

The Scarecrow's face twisted into a scowl and he turned away from her. "Be quiet, you had your chance." He cocked his head as if listening to someone on his other side. "That's your fault not mine. I'm actually making progress!"

Persona watched as the Scarecrow seemed to argue with himself. She wasn't stupid though; she knew the Scarecrow was talking to Jonathan. Apparently, just mentioning his real name was enough to get him to start an argument with his alter ego. Perhaps if she tried addressing Jonathan specifically…before she could say anything he straightened up and turned around to face her.

"So sorry about that, Persona. It's been a while since the Scarecrow has been allowed out and he's feeling a bit…" He gave a vague gesture with his hand, "A bit cooped up."

She felt herself relax a bit. It was stupid to relax around Dr. Crane, she knew that, but compared to his alter ego, he was calmer. She shifted her chair closer to the table and folded her arms on top of it. "What triggered him to take over? I'd like to try avoiding that creep in the future."

Crane moved towards her and shrugged calmly, "To be honest, the beginning of our conversation is a little fuzzy. I'm not sure what it was that set him off."

She sighed, "Damn."

He smirked, "Indeed." Suddenly, he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back. Her hands reached up to try to pry his off her. "Unfortunately for you, Johnny and I are the best of friends…we share everything. While he was admittedly _hesitant_ to let me play with you, he's as curious about the results as I am."

The fingertips of his free hand traced languidly along her jaw, "The nose is almost aquiline when viewed from the profile, but the tip is a little turned up so at least you don't look like a total witch." She glared at him and he smiled, "Oh don't worry from the front it's perfectly lovely. The lips are a little small and the frown certainly isn't helping." She kept one hand on his hand in her hair while she moved the other to intercept the one on her face. He grabbed her wrist roughly, "Are you insecure, my dearest? Does it hurt your feelings that we don't find you flawless?"

Persona's anger spiked, "Harley said you might feel insecure around women because you're so pretty. That being around an independent woman like me might make you feel like less of a man. Are _you_ afraid that if I'm not flawless you'll be mistaken for the woman in the relationship?"

Scarecrow sneered at her, "Well we both have the same size chest!"

She scoffed, "As if I haven't heard that one before. You'll have to do better than that girly-boy."

The Scarecrow snarled and threw her off the chair. "Don't you _dare_ call me that!"

She quickly untangled her legs from the long skirt and stood up. She clenched her fists, "You started it! You went asking questions I didn't want to answer."

He glared at her and angrily started moving to the other end of the table. At first she hoped he was giving up, but then she noticed what he was moving towards. _The mask, he uses the mask to protect himself from his toxin._

She lifted her skirts and ran after him. The Scarecrow turned, mask in hand and she slammed into him, knocking both of them onto the floor. He grunted and dropped the mask. She tried to crawl over him to reach it but he grabbed hold of her throat with both hands and rolled over so that he was on top. The Scarecrow was a lot stronger than he looked and she felt herself starting to panic as her oxygen was cut off. Persona slammed her fist into the side of his face as hard as she could. It knocked him off balance enough that he let go of her throat, but he was still straddling her waist. She struggled to throw him off, but his hands were back, this time grabbing her wrists and forcing them above her head.

Persona thrashed underneath him, "Let me go!"

He glared down at her, "Calm down!"

"You just tried to choke me!"

"And you tackled me. Forgive me if being knocked to the ground spiked my temper a bit."

Her eyes were furious; "You were going to use your fear toxin on me."

He smiled thinly, "Not the deadly kind. Just the kind needed to teach you a lesson about politeness."

She let out a sharp humorless laugh, "Politeness? You were the one who started insulting me…"

The Scarecrow shifted on top of her until he was almost lying down, his face inches away. "You didn't let me get to the good parts."

Persona turned her face away, "Don't give me that. There are no good parts."

For a moment they were both silent. To her surprise when he finally spoke his voice was softer, "Were you teased as a child?"

She sighed still facing away, "I told you, I don't remember."

"But you've been insecure about yourself as long as you can remember?"

She looked at him at last, "Why do you care?"

A slight smile crossed his lips, "Perhaps I don't." He let go of her wrists and stood up. To her surprise, he offered her his hand. She hesitated a moment then took it and he helped her off the floor. He continued to hold her hand. "But if it makes you feel better you've got beautiful eyes."

She gave a small but genuine smile. "Is that you now, Dr. Crane?"

He nodded, "Yes, and please, call me Jonathan."

She raised her eyebrows, "You're still holding my hand."

"So I am."

Persona shook her head, "We just beat the snot out of each other."

Jonathan smirked, "To be fair, I was winning." She glared at him and tried to pull her hand away, but he tightened his grip. His other hand rested on the small of her back. He looked down at her seriously, "I want you to know that we weren't going to kill you. The Scarecrow was angry and wanted to punish you, but he doesn't want you dead…_neither_ of us wants you dead."

Persona searched his face for a moment than slowly smiled, "That's as romantic as you get, isn't it?"

Jonathan shrugged calmly, "I see most people as lab rats to experiment on. I'm obsessed with fear. I've been labeled a homicidal psychopath by Arkham and a heartless monster by the media. Admitting that I don't want you dead is about as romantic as I get." He let her go and stepped away, "I should also point out that I've taken the fact you tried to help a serial killer kidnap, torture and possibly murder me remarkably well."

Persona grinned, "Yeah you have been a pretty good sport about that." She hesitated, "but it's not like I knew you then. I only knew what he told me about you. Once I actually talked to you…"

Jonathan gave a dismissive wave of his hand, "I know, I know. It doesn't matter now." He stepped close to her again, raising his hand to her throat and gently tracing the bruises beginning to form there with his fingertips. He leaned in further, his breath warm against her ear. "But if you ever betray me, I will _not_ take it well."

She opened her mouth to reply when the basement door swung open with a crash. They pushed each other away and stared at the top of the stairs, Persona looking startled and Jonathan looking furious. The Joker was in his boxer shorts, grinning down at them. "Come on kids, there's a late breaking news story! Looks like our serial killing messenger has finally struck again! I've already put the popcorn in the microwave."

Persona grabbed her skirts and hurried up the stairs. Crane turned to the table and grabbed his glasses, having just enough control over his anger not to break them. He took a deep breath, slipped them on and calmly climbed up the stairs.


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: Let me check…yes Batman is still property of DC and Warner Bros._

_A/N: Thanks to everyone for reviewing and all the lovely things you've all said. Reviews make everybody happy and keep the body count down (in real life at least!)_

Serial Killer

Edward Nashton sat in the chair in front of Commissioner Gordon's desk and tried to process everything the older man told him about the latest murder. He rubbed his forehead tiredly, "Well this news certainly brings the 'my life sucks' level up a few notches."

The commissioner sighed, "I'm sorry to have to lay this on you, Nashton, but the serial killer has given us no choice. He specifically targeted you in his message. In his eyes, murdering your attacker was the best way to call a truce."

Nashton shook his head, "It doesn't make sense. I haven't gotten close to figuring out any vital information about him. The last couple days I've been far busier with the Joker and Scarecrow case."

Gordon was quiet for a moment, "Maybe that's just it. The serial killer preys on violent criminals, but maybe he thinks he needs your help bringing down the Joker and Scarecrow."

Nashton leaned forward in his chair, elbows rested on his thighs and his steepled fingers pressed against his frowning lips. His eyes narrowed in thought. "I think you're right about the Serial Killer case somehow being intertwined with the escape of the Joker and the Scarecrow. The real question is 'how are they connected?' Lets look at the puzzle pieces we have so far: the Serial Killer, the Joker, the Scarecrow, Dr. Quinzel and the fake nurse. At the height of media attention on the Serial Killer's attacks the Joker and the Scarecrow escape Arkham. Why? The media made it clear that the Serial Killer was out to murder other criminals, escaping the asylum would immediately make them his prime targets."

The commissioner rubbed the bridge of his nose, just under his glasses. "Perhaps they saw it as a challenge to their authority as tops of the criminal food chain in Gotham. A threat even the Joker saw as big enough to partner up with the Scarecrow for."

Nashton continued to stare intensely at nothing, "Neither the Joker or the Scarecrow have any love or concern for Gotham's criminal world. In fact, word on the street is that Falcone's people hold Scarecrow personally responsible for the old boss's current condition. A lot of mob and gang leaders hate the Joker, too. If anything, they'd be better off letting the Serial Killer take out their enemies for them."

Gordon frowned, "What if the Serial Killer threatened them directly? Got a message to them, somehow, in Arkham?"

Something in Eddie's head clicked. He sat up slowly, eyes going wide as the pieces to the puzzle started to fit together as easily as they would if they were spread out for him on the desk. "Oh my God, of course!"

Nashton's sudden excitement made Gordon jump slightly, "What is it, detective?"

The young detective quickly stood up, nearly knocking over his chair, and began to pace in front of Gordon. "It all comes back to the fake nurse! Remember how confused we were that Scarecrow seemed to have an elaborate plan of escape involving the fake nurse, while the Joker was manipulating Dr. Quinzel and we couldn't see how they fit together? It's because the fake nurse _wasn't Crane's plan_. Someone else, someone who was after Dr. Crane and Dr. Crane alone, placed her there_._ It had to have been the Serial Killer who set up the fake nurse. The Serial Killer wanted the Scarecrow out of Arkham, but the Scarecrow was too smart, he let the Joker in on the plan."

Gordon nodded in understanding, "With both of them on the loose and working together the Serial Killer feels overwhelmed…"

Eddie continued to pace and ran his fingers through his hair excitedly, "It's not just that the Scarecrow has one partner, he has _three_. Sure, the Joker is obviously his scariest ally, but he also has Dr. Quinzel on his side. Perhaps even more importantly, from the Serial Killer's point of view, is that the Scarecrow has taken the fake nurse as well. That means Dr. Crane has a double advantage: he strengthens his own side while damaging his enemy's side."

The commissioner shook his head, "Wait, what makes you think that the mystery woman is working for Crane? Isn't it possible that she's being held hostage?"

Nashton tilted his head for a moment, lost in thought. "If she didn't join the Scarecrow and Joker's side than I'm pretty sure she's dead. They aren't the types to hold hostages for long…but that doesn't feel right to me. If the Serial Killer's ally had been murdered by his enemies he'd be going nuts trying to avenge her. Instead, he went after _my_ attacker in a bid to make me his new ally. The only way that can make sense to me is if the woman betrayed him. Anything else and he'd be tearing the city apart looking for her."

Gordon shrugged, "Maybe he has been."

The younger man shook his head, "No. He puts women's lives above the lives of men. He would not have taken the time it took to murder my attacker if he was searching for the woman."

The commissioner took a deep breath, "OK so the next question is why is the Serial Killer after Crane to begin with?"

Eddie stopped pacing, "Actually, that's the easy part. The Serial Killer wants not only to murder, but _torture_, every criminal in Gotham. What is the fastest, most efficient way to make such a large group of people suffer?"

Gordon's eyes went wide, "Poison!"

"Precisely. No one is more famous for poisoning people on a mass scale than Jonathan Crane. Granted, his fear toxin wasn't deadly, but it did completely shatter the minds of anyone who didn't get an antidote. It caused mass rioting that lead to many people being wounded and killed. Trying to kill every criminal in Gotham by hand is an impossible task, but if the Serial Killer was able to force the Scarecrow to make his fear toxin truly deadly…" Eddie shrugged his shoulders, "It's actually a pretty realistic goal. Not sustainable but still possible."

The commissioner's throat suddenly felt very dry, "The Scarecrow is a genius; he'd have to know that the Serial Killer would kill him once he had the poison."

Nashton's voice went soft, "I think we've seen enough of the Serial Killer's handiwork to know that if anyone can break the Scarecrow, it's him."

Gordon took a swig of his now cold coffee. "Do you think his focus on you and no one else in the GCPD is because your transfer to Gotham was so well publicized?"

Eddie looked to the floor for a moment, "God I hope so."

The commissioner looked at him in confusion, "Why?"

A nervous look crossed over Nashton's features. "Do you still have my personal file on your desk?"

"No, it's in the file cabinet labeled 'GCPD St.' but you can't open it without a key."

Eddie looked at the keyhole, frowned then pulled the handle of the top drawer. It opened easily. He swiftly began looking through the labels on the files. He shook his head, closed the first drawer, opened the second, looked and then closed. He crouched on the floor and began searching through the last drawer before slamming it shut. "My file is gone."

Gordon's mouth dropped open. It took him several tries to make sound come out of it. "Why would he want your personal file?"

"Know your enemy."

"But he wants you on his side. It doesn't make any sense."

Nashton stood slowly, his hands clenched into fists. "Maybe he wants to blackmail me. Or maybe he wanted to see if I was expendable or not. This is a man who doesn't believe in redemption or forgiveness. My criminal past would give him the perfect excuse to put me in the line of fire…"

Gordon shook his head, "My God, Nashton, you were hardly more than a child! Even a monster like him can't hold your crimes against you."

The detective took a breath and released it slowly. "You're right. It doesn't help to worry about what he thinks of my file. I've got to focus on finding them before they find each other."

The commissioner gave Nashton a sympathetic look. The bruises had barely begun to fade and he still looked exhausted. "Maybe you should get some rest first."

Nashton shook his head, "No, I really want to get back to work." He gave a small smile, "No rest for the wicked."

The detective left the office before the commissioner could protest. Gordon tried to ignore how humorless and filled with bitterness the young man's last words had sounded.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Nashton was scouring over maps of Gotham city, searching for a pattern in the Serial Killer's movements. So far, none had revealed themselves and the detective was getting increasingly frustrated.

Detective Bullock walked over to his partner's desk and placed a coffee and donut down. "You look like you could use these, kid."

Eddie looked up and gave a small smile, "Thanks, Bullock. Have you found anything yet?"

Bullock grinned, "Actually, yeah. Last night, at roughly 4 A.M. there was a small series of robberies in the west end. A costume store, a small clothing store and a convenience store all reported break-ins. All of it seemed pretty routine and the cops sent out didn't find anything connecting them…"

Nashton leaned forward eagerly, "I hear a 'but' coming up…"

The older detective nodded proudly, "But I told everyone that _any _crimes that happened last night needed to be put on my desk. Different cops dealt with the cases but when all three cases were dropped on my desk…" He shrugged, "Bingo! It all fit together."

Bullock handed Nashton the files and continued talking while his partner started looking through the files. "At the first crime scene the alarm had been dismantled but the perpetrators didn't bother taking out the security footage. Two men walk in, both wearing suits and balaclavas. The images are in black and white, but the taller man's balaclava is lightly colored and there's a wide smile painted on it, like a smiley face. I'd bet my house the thing was yellow. Anyways, they start tearing through the costumes and you know what the kicker is? They're looking at _women's _clothing."

Nashton smirked, "Of course they were…how long was the gap between the first robbery and the other two?"

"Long enough for the robbers to get the costumes to their ladies, give them time to change and head to the next crime scenes."

Eddie nodded, "So the convenience store robbery and the clothing store robbery happened roughly at the same time."

Bullock crossed his arms, "What I don't get is why they decided to split up. Did they think it would throw us off their trail? They took out the alarms at all the stores, but they didn't shy away from the security cameras. Hell, they looked like they were showing off!"

More pieces fit into the puzzle, "They _were_ showing off, but not about the crimes. Break and enter style robbery is probably like sleep walking for criminals like the Joker and Scarecrow. What they really wanted to show off were the _ladies_. More importantly, the fact they were _training_ them."

Bullock scratched his head, "So why didn't the Joker and Scarecrow wear their usual costumes?"

Nashton shrugged, "Maybe they wanted to keep a lower profile, force us to actually guess if it was them or not. Of course, it might've been an attempt to hide from the Batman and Serial Killer as well. Whatever the reason, they wanted us to know what they were doing, but not until after they were finished."

Bullock held up the security tapes, "You wanna see the footage?"

Eddie gestured to the TV, "I don't need to see the first crime, just the other two."

They watched as the smiley face criminal and his partner, a woman dressed in a full out harlequin costume complete with mask, broke into a clothing store and began pulling out whatever they wanted and gleefully tossing it into a shopping cart. Nashton paused the screen when the harlequin turned and waved at the camera smiling.

He pointed at the screen, "That's got to be Dr. Quinzel. God, when I think about it, her name alone must've caught the Joker's attention. It's so close to 'harlequin'…"

Bullock nudged him with his elbow, "I'm sure the fact she's a fox caught his attention, too."

Nashton shook his head but he couldn't keep the smile off his face, "OK, I'm sure that didn't hurt, but looks alone wouldn't be enough to grab a man like the Joker's attention. The name, the looks and the fact that she practically has 'I'm a nudge away from going off the deep end' written all over her forehead would be the perfect combination for him."

He took the tape out and put the third one in. The man in the dark balaclava was followed into the store by a woman dressed in a witch costume. Of course, it was the kind of witch costume that involved a short skirt, fishnets and knee high leather boots. Unlike the others, she wasn't wearing a mask, but her face was obscured by her hair and the pointed witch hat that was tied with a ribbon on her head.

Bullock whistled, "Between the harlequin and the witch, I gotta admit that bad guys get way hotter girls."

Nashton laughed, "I'm not gonna argue with that." He narrowed his eyes, "Even if it wasn't for the height difference you can easily tell that this guy is the Scarecrow. Look at his attention to detail. He's not just tossing things wildly into the cart; he's even looking at some of the labels. You can see it in the woman's costume, too. Sure he picked something a little over the top but she can still move around in it. The boots have low heels so she can run in them." He laughed again, "Funny he picked a witch costume though. He's obviously referencing The Wizard of Oz, but the Wicked Witch sets the Scarecrow on fire in it. Not exactly romantic stuff."

The older detective shrugged, "He's off the wall insane. Maybe that kind of thing _is _romantic to him."

A sly grin crossed the younger man's face, "Yeah, I can see that." He shook the smile off his face and turned off the TV. "OK so this has pretty much proven a few things: the mystery woman and Dr. Quinzel are definitely working for the Joker and the Scarecrow, they're throwing the mystery woman's betrayal of the Serial Killer right in his face and that suggests that they were most likely challenged by him first."

Bullock looked confused, "Why the last one?"

Nashton wrote a few things down on his notepad, "The Joker's last crime spree was directed entirely at the Batman. I highly doubt his fascination has simply disappeared. The fact that he seems to be ignoring Batman at the moment, suggests that a more immediate threat is taking his attention. Not that I think for a second that the Batman will sit back and be ignored."

"You think he's in on it, somehow?"

Eddie shook his head, "Not in on it, no. I just think he'll want to send the whole lot of them to Arkham."

Bullock frowned, "Remember what I told you about talking about the Batman? It's not exactly a friendly topic around here."

The younger detective grinned, "When the other cops in this place show half the Batman's tenacity at catching criminals, I might actually start to give a damn about what they think."

Despite himself, Bullock chuckled.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was well past noon and everyone else was still asleep. Jonathan sat up on the fold out bed. The night's events had been very amusing and had left him feeling invigorated, the last thing he wanted to do was lie around all day. He looked down at Persona. She was sprawled on the couch cushions, still in most of her costume. Her boots, hat and long black gloves had been carefully placed close by.

_You could pretend to fall off the couch, _the Scarecrow's devious whisper breezed through his mind.

Jonathan scowled, _be quiet! You nearly ruined everything the other day._

_You're just jealous because I got closer._

The ex-doctor scoffed, _I was the one she almost kissed, not you._

The Scarecrow grinned, _but I wouldn't have chickened out just because the Joker walked in._

Jonathan would not dignify that with an answer. Instead he decided to go to his lab and work. He slipped out of the bed, on the opposite side from Persona. Unlike her, he had stripped down to his boxers and undershirt to sleep. Jonathan stretched, grabbed some clean clothes and went to the washroom to shower. He was eager to wash himself to his standard of cleanliness. It was why he had chosen to rob the convenience store instead of the clothing store. He didn't trust the Joker to get all the necessities of proper hygiene or for that matter, _any_ of the necessities of proper hygiene. The clown had seemed baffled by Jonathan's insistence that one bar of soap was insufficient to clean the bodies of four people and was not a replacement for shampoo. Of course, the Joker was probably making such a show of confusion just to piss Jonathan off.

The former doctor carefully hung his clean suit on a hook on the back of the door, removed his underclothes and stepped into the shower. For a moment he just let the hot water wash over him, soothing his tired muscles, then he reached for the new soap and began washing himself. After a few minutes he put down the soap and began shampooing his hair, massaging the suds into his scalp and letting all his concerns wash down the drain.

Until the door burst open.

Jonathan gave a startled yelp before a wave of anger hit him, "I locked the bloody door for a reason!"

The Joker laughed, "Sorry Johnny-boy but I gotta take a leak."

The ex-doctor was thankful that the shower curtain was thick enough to prevent him from actually seeing the Joker do his business, but the sudden draft of cool air let him know that the insane clown didn't bother to close the door while he relieved himself either. Jonathan scowled in disgust. The Joker finally flushed the toilet. The shower water suddenly went ice cold and Jonathan forced himself to swallow the shriek that had threatened to rip out of him at the sudden change in temperature. He quickly turned off the water.

The Joker started laughing, well aware of what he'd done. He left the washroom and didn't bother closing the door. Jonathan poked his head out of the curtain and checked to see if Persona or Harley were anywhere within view, than quickly stepped out of the shower and slammed the door shut. He quickly dried himself off, brushed his teeth and got changed before anyone else could burst in on him.

The smell of brewing coffee soothed his temper a bit. He walked into the kitchen to see Persona was alone and still in costume.

"You haven't changed yet."

She looked up from the batter she was carefully pouring into muffin tins. "How could I change? I haven't had a chance to shower yet."

_Aaaww she's got your love of personal hygiene, _the Scarecrow mocked.

Jonathan ignored the Scarecrow, "Oh of course."

She turned back to her baking and Jonathan sat awkwardly at the table. The Scarecrow started laughing in his head, _God it's like watching your teen years all over again!_

Jonathan slammed his hand down on the table and growled, "Shut up!"

Persona jumped and turned around, "I didn't say anything!"

He rubbed his forehead in frustration, "Not you. The Scarecrow."

She cocked her head to the side, "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, "It doesn't matter." He took a breath and tried to give her a normal, friendly smile. "There's been something I meant to ask you."

She turned back to the oven and carefully put the muffin tray inside. "OK what is it you want to ask?"

"How do you remember how to cook when you don't remember anything else?"

She started laughing, "I don't really remember, exactly." She picked up a book from the counter. "I just have an uncanny ability to find recipe books."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, "Still, it takes some knowledge to read a recipe book correctly."

Persona started absently tracing the writing on the cover of the book with one of her fingertips. "The first few days after my…um incident, I guess, I stayed with the Serial Killer's doctor. She taught me a few basic life skills so I could function more or less on my own. I wasn't taught anything about money or banking, all that was in the Serial Killer's control. When I could manage on my own they found me a little apartment, whose rent they paid, and provided me with a weekly allowance so I could buy necessities."

Jonathan leaned forward, "What did you give them in return?"

She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "Five days a week I was expected to go for training." She paused, "Sometimes it was about his religious mission, other times it was self-defense practice or emergency first aid. That was basically what my life was like until he decided I was ready for his Arkham plan."

He felt his eyes narrow, "Do you miss him?"

She seemed surprised; "He treated us like soldiers, took total control of our lives and prevented us from making friends. I don't even know what the other women looked like; we all wore masks even though there were only a few of us. There was rarely any talking allowed."

"Did you ever try to leave?"

She turned around to face the stove, "Near the beginning." Her voice went very soft; "He doesn't appreciate it when his followers are ungrateful."

Jonathan found himself standing up. "Is that why you were so eager to leave him? Because he mistreated you? Were you even aware that he was mistreating you until you…" He cut himself off. It suddenly occurred to him that his hands were clenched into tight fists and his body was tense with rage.

Persona watched him silently for a moment then moved towards him and gently placed her hands on his shoulders. She kept her eyes focused on her hands as she slowly slid them down his arms, until they reached his fists. He found his hands relaxing under her touch, their fingers entwined and she finally looked up at him.

Harley's shrill voice came from the other room. "Is breakfast ready yet?"

Persona had returned to her place in front of the stove just as Harley burst into the kitchen. "Hey did ya hear me? Is breakfast ready yet?"

Jonathan glared at her in annoyance, "Of course we heard you. Everyone in the neighborhood heard you."

Harley stuck her tongue out at him, "Well someone got out on the wrong side of the bed this morning!"

Persona cut in before Jonathan could respond. "Where's the Joker right now?"

Harley brightened, "Mistah J said he had to run out for a bit before breakfast, but he'd be back soon and we better leave him some breakfast."

Persona smiled, "Oh don't worry Harley, the muffins are almost ready and there will be plenty left when the Joker arrives."

Jonathan sat down at the table and forced his expression into his usual icy calm while he watched Persona talk to Harley. The blonde clearly hadn't showered yet; there were still streaks of white face paint and black lipstick on her skin. She wasn't wearing her costume though. It looked as though she had haphazardly thrown on one of the Joker's old shirts.

Harley cheerfully plopped into one of the chairs. "So last night was pretty amazing, huh?"

Persona smiled and nodded. "It was something else."

Jonathan could tell that Persona was almost as annoyed as he was, but that she wasn't willing to risk Harley's feelings by kicking her out. He stood up, "I'm going to work in my lab."

Jonathan was out of the kitchen too quickly to hear if either of the women said anything about his departure. He stormed down the stairs to his lab. The smell of chemicals and dusty books calmed him a bit and he was able to focus his attention on his work. Eventually he relaxed into his chair and became too focused on his formulas to hear the soft footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Jonathan?"

He looked up to see Persona standing next to him holding a mug of coffee and a plate with a muffin on it. He took them from her hands, placed them on the table and looked up at her. She had showered and changed into an outfit clearly chosen by Harley: a denim mini skirt and a pink t-shirt that had a rainbow colored cartoon pony on it. Normally he would come up with a smarmy remark about such a ridiculous outfit, but he was still too angry to care. The strange thing was that Jonathan wasn't entirely certain what he was angry about. It wasn't Persona's fault Harley had burst in on them. He also couldn't blame Persona for not kicking Harley out, since he didn't kick the blonde out either. He broke his gaze from her and took a gulp of the hot coffee to calm down.

Persona shifted uncomfortably, "Look about earlier on…"

So much for calming down, "Forget about it."

To his surprise he felt one of her hands slide gently through his hair. "I don't want to forget about it and I don't think you do either."

Jonathan felt his eyelids grow heavy and he leaned his head back into her touch. Her second hand gently removed his glasses from his face before joining the first hand in his hair. Her fingertips carefully rubbed his temples and forehead, massaged his scalp and slid down to the back of his neck. Each caress melted the tension from his body in a way he'd never felt before. Even the Scarecrow remained strangely silent. Jonathan moaned softly as she found a particularly sore spot and gently rubbed the pain away.

"Are you still angry with me?" She whispered softly.

He pulled away from her and stood up, looking down at her with unreadable eyes. Persona opened her mouth to speak but gasped instead as Jonathan wrapped her in his arms, pressing his body tight against hers. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as Jonathan finally claimed her lips for his own.


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: Batman is the property of DC comics and Warner Bros. _

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone! Every time my story gets a review a Batman gets his wings. _

Serial Killer

Harley Quinn was _bored._ The Joker hadn't come back yet and Persona had asked her for some alone time with Johnny. The blonde grinned. Of course, she was getting _a little_ curious how things were, um, _progressing_ so she decided to take a peek into the basement. Harley tiptoed over to the basement door and carefully pried it open, peeking down the stairs. _Aaaawww how cute!_ Harley grinned and clasped her hands together happily. She _knew_ Jonathan wouldn't be able to resist Persona in the adorable outfit Harley had picked out for her. Harley stifled a giggle and decided to leave the happily kissing couple before they moved things beyond their current PG rating. She closed the door softly and sighed. It was nice to know that even though she wasn't the best psychiatrist in her field, she'd certainly gotten it right with those two.

The front door suddenly burst open to reveal a grinning Joker, carrying what appeared to be a mop bucket. "Gotham City is just too much fun!"

Harley grinned and ran over to him, "Did ya have a good morning Mistah J?"

The Joker licked his lips and gave her a rough pat on the head. She would've preferred a kiss, but any touch was better than none. "I did indeed Harley-girl."

The door to the basement swung open and Johnny stood at the top of the stairs, glasses back in place and his hair looking completely unruffled. Persona stood just behind him. Johnny gave a slight smile, "What were you up to this afternoon, Joker?" Then he raised an eyebrow, "And why are you carrying a bucket?"

The Joker grinned broadly, "Actually, this afternoon I was just checking out a few locations and such for some possible fun. The real excitement happened earlier this morning while you kids were all tuckered out by last night's activities. I was still feeling wide awake so I decided to drop by one of my favorite places in the world…Police headquarters!"

Dr. Crane stepped into the room followed by Persona. Johnny's slight smile turned into a frown. "Why didn't you tell us you were at police headquarters before you went out again?"

The Joker shrugged, "I didn't think you'd appreciate me jumping into the shower with ya to give ya the exciting news."

Dr. Crane scowled but Harley giggled. "So what's with the bucket Mistah J?"

The Joker held it up proudly, "The bucket was the key component of my disguise. Not only is it a key accessory for a janitor, but it's also a useful way to sneak out things of value."

Johnny's eyes seemed to get brighter, "Information."

"Exactly," the Joker's smile turned more sinister. "And I struck _gold._"

Dr. Crane tilted his head towards the bucket, "What did you find?"

The Joker swaggered to the couch and plopped onto it, placing the bucket on the floor beside his feet. "Well, like I said, after you all fell asleep I decided I still had some energy to burn. So I dropped by the police station with the plan to uh, clean things up a bit. You know pick up any papers or files that might be left lying around. See if there was any exciting new information about the Serial Killer. Ya know, just so we have something to talk about when we, uh, _meet_ him. I also wanted to check if they had anything new about our favorite flying rodent."

Dr. Crane smirked, "Ah yes, the Bat Man. How has he been doing these days?"

The Joker gave a mock frown, "They've labeled him a killer and a fugitive."

Johnny pouted mockingly, "Oh, the poor thing."

The Joker started laughing, "I warned him they'd turn against him, but some kids just need to see it for themselves." He clapped his hands together, "Anyways, while looking over the Serial Killer's file, I found out the police had kept quiet about why he murdered his last victim."

Dr. Crane raised an eyebrow, "Why would they do that?"

The Joker grinned, "Well according to the police report, they think the killer felt a little _overwhelmed_ by both of us escaping…" He glanced at Persona, "which from the look on your face you think is a bi_t_ ridiculous."

Persona shrugged uncomfortably, "I've seen him _disembowel_ men. I can't imagine that he'd feel overwhelmed or intimidated by anybody."

The Joker nodded, "That's kind of what I figured. Besides, you've mentioned before that he has helpers. But anyways, the _police_ think he felt overwhelmed, so he went out and killed some guy who had attacked a police detective earlier that day."

Dr. Crane shook his head; "The Serial Killer can't possibly be stupid enough to think that will get the police on his side."

The Joker licked his lips and leaned forward, "That's the best part- he's not after the police, he's after just one- the de-_tec-_tive." He gave a sinister grin, "And after reading Detective Edward Nashton's file, I can see why."

The Joker reached into the bucket and pulled out one of the files, tossing it carelessly towards Dr. Crane. Johnny swiftly caught it one-handed and opened the file. After only a few moments of reading he chuckled, "I see why you think this guy is a gold mine." He looked up and a creepy grin crossed his face, "The detective's practically a ticking time-bomb of repressed insanity."

Understanding hit Harley, "Ooohhh so you wanna get him on our side before he joins the Serial Killer!"

The Joker gave her that look that said she was _almost_ close. "Not quite Harley-girl. See, I don't think he'd ever join the Serial Killer. Bu-_t_ with the right kind of push, given by a few caring citizens like ourselves, I'm sure he could be a brand new agent of chaos!"

Jonathan leaned against the wall across from the Joker. The ex-doctor smirked as he continued to look through the detective's file. "Nashton is Gotham's star detective, the 'brightest beacon of hope' since the death of Harvey Dent. His _heroics_ in Bolton have already made him popular with the public even though he hasn't solved any major crimes in Gotham yet."

The Joker started laughing, pushing himself up from the couch and starting to pace excitedly. "It's like, it's like the city purposely _finds _these guys for me. Crazies dressed like heroes just _waiting_ to be twisted and corrupted! The Batman, Harvey Dent and now _Edward Nashton_." He shook his head, still grinning, "I loooove this town!"

Dr. Crane's eyes narrowed in thought, "Plus, if the Serial Killer is interested in Nashton, we might be able to use the detective to lure our enemy into a trap."

The Joker's eyes glittered, "See, that's why I went out the second time! I just couldn't wai_t_ to start _exploring_ the possibilities. Looking for places, looking for people…if we're lucky we can lure the Serial Killer _and_ the Batman. What a party we'll have!"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Edward Nashton collapsed onto the bed in the bachelor apartment he'd just started renting. As if dealing with three crazy murderers on the loose wasn't bad enough, trying to find a reasonably priced apartment in Gotham that wasn't a cockroach-infested cesspool, had almost driven Eddie crazy. The detective sighed. _Speaking of crazy, I'm due to take my meds._

Grudgingly, he got to his feet and headed for the washroom. Eddie pulled two bottles out of the medicine cabinet and took a pill out of each. He tossed them into his mouth and cupped his hand under the faucet to collect some water to help him swallow them down. The bitter aftertaste clung to his mouth and he brushed his teeth thoroughly to get rid of it. He stumbled back towards the bed and stripped down to his boxers before turning off the light and crawling under the covers. He slept peacefully for several hours until he was jolted awake by a banging sound.

Eddie pulled his pillow over his head and cursed the neighbors under his breath before realizing that the banging was at his door. He sat up and shouted towards the door. "Just a minute!"

The banging stopped and Eddie quickly pulled on the pants he'd worn earlier. He was about to grab his shirt too, but the banging started up again. Eddie shook his head in annoyance as he headed to the door, _impatient son of a…_

Despite his exhaustion he wasn't stupid enough to throw the door open. Instead he looked through the peephole. Standing very close to the door was an attractive young woman with blonde hair done up in pigtails. She looked vaguely familiar to him, but then, if she was a neighbor he reasoned he'd probably passed her in the hallways.

He unlocked the door and opened it a crack, "Can I help you?"

A larger figure stepped into view from beside the woman and Nashton slammed the door shut, struggling to keep it closed long enough to lock it. He didn't need to be a genius to instantly recognize the painted face and purple coat of the Joker. The door shook as the Joker slammed into it from the other side, making it impossible for Eddie to slide the lock into place and keep the psycho clown from breaking the door down. He looked towards where his gun was on the nightstand. If he jumped over the bed fast enough, he might be able to make it before the Joker could burst in…

The door made a sickening cracking sound as the Joker slammed against it. Voices came through the door and Edward realized it might be his only chance to run for the gun. He moved and felt the door give way; he ignored the Joker's triumphant laughter, didn't look back as he jumped up on the bed, turned around and aimed the gun…

Only to get a burst of fear toxin shot into his face.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was 2:30 in the morning and Commissioner Gordon had yet to go to bed. He was busy going through the report Nashton and Bullock had made about their current leads in the Joker and Scarecrow case. However, being awake didn't stop him from jumping at the sound of the phone ringing. He quickly grabbed it before the sound had the chance to wake his wife and children.

"Commissioner Gordon here."

_"Hell-ooo Commissioner! I certainly hope I didn't wake you on this oh so fine evening."_

Shrieking, maniacal laughter followed and Gordon was forced to pull the phone away from his ear. Dread hit his stomach like a sack of bricks. When the laughter died down he responded as calmly as he could, "What do you want, Joker?"

The insane clown sounded like he was trying to stifle his laughter, "Well, actually Gord-o I've already got what I want. I just wanted to let you know that you should be expecting a little film from me sometime tomorrow."

More of the Joker's horrible laughter filled the phone until the clown abruptly hung up. Gordon swiftly moved to contact Batman.

The dark knight was quick to answer, _"Commissioner?"_

"I just got a call from the Joker. He called my house and told me I was to expect another of his films tomorrow."

Gordon could almost hear the frown in Batman's voice, _"Did he give you any clue as to who the victim is?"_

The commissioner shook his head, "No, nothing. Just that he had what he wanted and I was to expect a 'little film' from him tomorrow."

Batman was silent for a moment, _"Did anything else happen today that seemed out of the ordinary, something that would affect you personally?"_

Gordon frowned, "Someone broke into my office early this morning, before I arrived. Nashton discovered that several files had been stolen, including his own. We believe it was the Serial Killer, since he seems to be after Nashton now. I checked with security but the only person they saw enter before me was the janitor, who by the way, can't be found. I think the Serial Killer must've paid him off."

There was a pause, _"Call Nashton, he's in serious danger."_

Gordon's eyes widened as he realized his mistake, "The Joker said he had what he wanted…" The commissioner slammed his free hand on the table, "Damn it! The Serial Killer didn't take Nashton's file it was the Joker!"

_"I need Nashton's address." _There was a hint of urgency in Batman's voice.

Gordon looked through his address book. He had just written down Nashton's new address yesterday. "He lives at Trinity Apartments, 33 Gibson St., apartment #309."

_"I'm on my way."_

There was a click as Batman ended the conversation. Gordon stared at the phone for a moment before quickly dialing Nashton's number. It rang several times before the answering machine came on. Gordon numbly listened to the machine's recording until he heard it beep. "Nashton, if you're there pick up. Nashton as soon as you get this message call me. Nashton!"

The commissioner slammed the phone down in helpless frustration. He knew the younger detective wouldn't be able to answer his message. Gordon took a deep breath, feeling his fear turn to icy anger. He couldn't let Edward Nashton become another Harvey Dent. He calmly picked up the phone to call Detective Bullock.


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: Batman still belongs to DC Comics and Warner Bros._

_A/N: This chapter is going to include some rather graphic details of physical and psychological torture. It's key to the plot, but it might make some readers a little squeamish._

Serial Killer

The Scarecrow watched calmly as the Joker set up a camera and tripod in front of the unconscious Detective Edward Nashton. The Joker had tied Nashton firmly to an old table, stretching out his arms legs. Two large cinder blocks propped up the legs of the table where Nashton's upper body was resting, putting him at a slant that would allow the camera a better view of him. The man was still suffering the effects of the fear toxin, writhing and muttering to himself, but the dose Scarecrow had given him had been relatively low. It was enough to terrify Nashton into unconsciousness, and it would continue to affect the man when he woke up, but only enough to heighten the very real terror the Joker would put him through. Since there was no further use for his toxin at the moment, the Scarecrow had decided to forego wearing his mask.

The Joker had found a condemned toy store in which to make their little film. They hadn't wanted to draw anyone's attention to their real hideout, which was safely at the opposite end of the city. The dusty and cobweb covered toys gave an oddly creepy feel to the place. Scarecrow could imagine that a more cowardly man might feel as though the dust coated dolls were watching them.

Dr. Crane was eager to study Edward Nashton's fear transform him into a criminal as the Joker planned, yet the doctor was staying in the background and letting Scarecrow deal with the actual torture. Psychologically torturing someone, even to the point where they hurt themselves, was something Jonathan could handle. Physically torturing people himself brought up too many uncomfortable memories of his own past, memories the doctor would much rather forget.

_Of course,_ the Scarecrow whispered to Jonathan in their head, _it doesn't help that he reminds you so much of yourself._

That was true enough. If it were some big, stupid jock that the Joker had strapped to the table, Jonathan would've had no trouble watching and even participating. What made him uncomfortable with Nashton was how similar the detective was to him. Nashton's slender body was covered in fading bruises, no doubt from the beating he took the other day, and it reminded Crane too much of looking in the mirror at his own body in the past. Worse still were some of the things Nashton had cried out during the height of the fear toxin's effects. Nashton's childhood sounded almost as hellish as Crane's own.

Scarecrow frowned slightly at the path Jonathan's mind was taking. He decided to comfort his other side. _We're doing this for him, Jonathan. As awful as it may seem, he'll be better for it. He's been brainwashed by the police and the courts into serving and protecting the very people who had allowed him to suffer for so long. They wouldn't have helped him if he hadn't proven to them he was useful. Once we break through that conditioning he'll realize how badly they've used him…and he'll join our side to punish this corrupt and sickened society._

Inside their head Jonathan nodded. The Scarecrow was, of course, right. Edward Nashton would suffer, but he would be much better off in the end. _I'd still prefer it if you stayed in control during this. _

Scarecrow gave a small smile, "Certainly."

The Joker looked up from the camera lens, "What?"

Scarecrow tapped his finger against his temple, "Just talking to the doctor."

The Joker shrugged as if it was the most normal thing in the world, turned back to the camera and gently blew on the lens to make sure it was dust free. He stood up and clapped his hands together in anticipation. "All se_t. _ Are the ladies in place?"

Scarecrow nodded, "They're sitting downstairs 'guarding' the front door. They shouldn't be able to hear anything." 

The Joker pursed his lips, "Good. They seem alright with little crimes like breaking homicidal maniacs out of prison and committing armed robbery, but I still don't think they're _quite_ up to all out torture yet."

"Agreed. Besides, on the off chance the Serial Killer or Batman finds us, the women will be able to raise a warning."

The Joker clucked his tongue, "To be honest I _almost _hope they don't. At least not until we're finished with our little bud_dy_ here." He rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Now, do you have that little torch thing?"

The Scarecrow moved towards a shelf near the doorway, where he had placed all the lab items the Joker had requested the ex-doctor bring. "It's called a Bunsen burner. Where would you like me to put it?"

A malicious grin crossed the Joker's face, "On top of that box beside the table. Right next to the crowbar."

The Scarecrow did as he was told. He had a feeling he knew at least one of the tortures Nashton had to look forward to. "Will you be filming all of it?"

The Joker shook his head, "Probably not the lead up bits…just the really fun stuff!" He leaned over Nashton and whispered in his ear, "Wake-y Wake-y."

The detective didn't move.

The Joker grinned and poked his finger against one of the bruises on Nashton's ribs. In a slightly louder voice, "I _said _wake-y wake-_y._"

The detective remained unconscious, but he groaned from the jolt of pain in his rib and turned his face away from the Joker. The insane clown's eyes seemed to flash and he roughly grabbed Nashton's face, turning it back towards him. In a demonic sounding voice the clown shouted, "_WAKE UP!"_

The young detective's eyes snapped open in sudden shock and he looked up at the Joker. The clown smiled at him pleasantly, as though he hadn't just scared the other man awake. He loosened his grip on Nashton's face, giving him a friendly pat on the cheek. "That's much better."

The detective's eyes narrowed, "What do you want?"

The Joker gave him an embarrassed, almost shy smile. "To be your friend."

Nashton stared at him, "And _why _do you want to be my friend?"

The Joker grinned and turned around. He grabbed a file folder from underneath the crowbar then shoved it into Nashton's face with a flourish. "Taa-daaa!"

Nashton sighed and even though the Joker was blocking his face, the Scarecrow could tell the detective was rolling his eyes. "You've got it too close to my face, I can't actually read it."

The Joker gave an embarrassed, "Oops," and chuckled. He pulled the file back far enough that Nashton could properly read what was on the cover.

The detective glared first at the Joker and then Scarecrow, "You read my file."

The Scarecrow smiled, "We did indeed."

"Well," The Joker interrupted, "it _was _my idea. I took one look at your file and said to myself, 'Self? This guy sure used to be a lot of fun. Starting a lucrative criminal career at 10 years old? This guy is just _bursting_," The Joker mimicked an explosion with his hands, "with chaotic potential.'"

Nashton shook his head, "Sorry to disappoint you, but I outgrew my childish need for revenge against the world a long time ago."

The Scarecrow pulled a pill bottle out of his pocket and rattled the contents. Nashton lifted his head awkwardly from the table to identify the sound. He frowned when he saw what the Scarecrow was holding. "You went through my medicine cabinet? What's next, you're gonna start pulling out the contents of my sock drawer?"

The Joker started laughing and Scarecrow chuckled. Nashton was putting on a brave front, but underneath that was a palpable sense of fear. Scarecrow calmly walked over to the detective and held the pill bottle out for him. "Having been a celebrated doctor for an insane asylum, I'm well aware of the valuable information that can be found about a person just by reading a few pill bottle labels." He rattled the bottle slightly for emphasis, "_These _aren't for something you can outgrow."

The detective's green eyes glared up at him. "Maybe not, but I've learned to live with it. I'm nothing like the two of you."

The Joker burst into wild laughter and roughly grabbed Nashton's jaw. The laughter suddenly died as he painfully stretched the detective's neck so their faces were mere inches apart. "That reminds me a lot of something Harvey Dent might've said. He thought he was nothing like me either." The insane clown clucked his tongue with mock disapproval, "But really, all he needed was a _little push_ to get him started. Now admittedly, he didn't exactly last very long, but Gordon can tell ya just how effective ol' Two-Face was when it came to causing a little chaos."

The Joker's face seemed to light up as he watched understanding spread across Nashton's face. The detective's voice was hardly a whisper, "The police framed the Batman to protect Harvey Dent's reputation. All those murders…they were the people he blamed for his disfigurement and the murder of his fiancé, Rachel Dawes."

The Joker released Nashton's face and the detective's head fell back against the hard table. "Unfortunately, as much fun as it was to watch Harvey abandon everything he ever said he believed in, he didn't have the necessary _joie de vivre _necessary for staying power." The Joker gave Nashton another friendly pat on the cheek, "See _that's _where you're different, Eddie. Mind if I call you Eddie?"

Nashton glared, "Only my friends call me Eddie."

The Joker clapped his hands together once, sharply. "Great! Look at the progress we're making, already using nicknames."

Apparently giving up on reasoning with the Joker, the detective turned his attention to Scarecrow. "What do you get out of all this?"

Scarecrow smiled down, almost benevolently, at Nashton. "The chance to participate in the experiment, of course. Just what does it take to create a criminal like the Joker or myself? What defines our kind?"

The Joker cut in, "What makes us _special_? You've been tricked, Eddie. They've told you that you can live a normal life, be like everyone else." The Joker bent low to look Nashton in the eyes, "Meanwhile they medicate you, manipulate you, force you to suppress all your energy and brilliance…and for what? The only so-called reward you get is to be as _mediocre_ as everyone else."

The Scarecrow stood close enough to the other two men that he could clearly see how deeply affected Nashton was by the Joker's words. There was a battle going on behind the detective's eyes and everyone in the room knew it. The Joker let the silence stretch for several moments, "When was the last time you asked someone a riddle? You love riddles and puzzles, don't you?"

Nashton blinked, the sudden change in topic momentarily confusing him, "I haven't thought of riddles in a long time…"

The Joker looked down at him sympathetically, "Let me guess: your therapist or psychiatrist or whoever the court sent you to after your little arrest told you that riddles were an unhealthy pastime that connected you to your criminal past. Am I right?"

The detective shook his head, "NO! I can't believe how easily I've been letting you manipulate me. People _can _change. I was never a bad person. I was just a confused kid who wanted a way out of a bad situation. My arrest led me to a safe home, an education and a respectable job." He glared right into the Joker's dark eyes. "I have _nothing_ to be ashamed of."

An ugly scowl twisted the Joker's mutilated face. He smacked his lips in annoyance and shook his head like an angry horse. "You know what? For a moment there, for a _moment_, I actually thought I got through to you. But you just have to try playing at being a hero, don't ya?"

The clown moved with jerky, angry steps to the camera, and stood in front of it. He combed his fingers through his hair as if to neaten it, then roughly turned the camera on to start recording. "Helloooo citizens of Gotham. I apologize for my long absence from your T.V. screens, but I'm sure you'll all be relieved to see that I'm back! I have a _very _special guest with me today, so please give a warm welcome to Detective Edward Nashton."

He stepped aside gesturing with a flourish towards the half naked figure of Nashton. The detective clenched his fists but said nothing. Scarecrow gave a few slow, mocking claps. The Joker moved back in front of the camera, "Now you're all probably wondering, 'What's a nice guy like Eddie doin' hangin' out with hoodlums like them?' Well, I'm glad you asked, because that's kind of the theme for today: _questions._" The Joker stepped back and to the side a bit so that both he and Nashton were in view of the camera. "Being a detective, Eddie here has a certain knack for answering questions. To be honest though, I'm not interested in the answers at all. Unanswered questions are far more _interesting_, aren't they Eddie?"

Nashton smirked, "Since you just said you prefer your questions unanswered, I won't burden you with a response."

The Joker grinned at the camera, "Isn't he fun? Now, what makes Detective Edward Nashton such a perfect choice to illustrate my thoughts on questions? Well, I'm not answering that." He burst into wild laughter. After a moment he settled down and licked his lips. "But seriously, I'm gonna let Gotham's police figure that out for themselves. For now I'm gonna let Scarecrow take over camera duties while I, uh _illustrate_ my uh, poin_T_."

The camera moved to follow the Joker as he picked up the crowbar presenting it to the camera like a model on The Shopping Channel. "Just in case there are any particularly slow viewers in the audience, _this_ is a crowbar. To show you all that this is a real crowbar and not some sort of imitation, I'll give an example of how it is typically used."

Holding the bar with both hands he viciously swung it down at Nashton, hitting his left leg just below the kneecap. There was an awful cracking sound and the detective cried out in pain then clenched his teeth, sending the Joker a murderous glare. The Joker stroked Nashton's hair and made gentle shushing sounds like he was soothing an upset toddler. "There, there Eddie it's all for the best, I promise."

A thought occurred to the Scarecrow and he decided to speak up despite the fact the camera was rolling. "Should we stick something in his mouth so he doesn't bite his tongue off?"

"A very good idea Scarecrow." The Joker pulled out his handkerchief and grabbed Nashton roughly by the hair, forcing his head back far enough that he couldn't keep his mouth shut. The Joker shoved the balled up kerchief into the detective's mouth.

Nashton shook his head and tried to spit it out. The Joker slapped his hand against the detective's mouth to hold the cloth inside and leaned down next to Nashton's face. "Now Eddie, you heard what the good doctor said, didn't you? If we don't put something in your mouth while we tortu- I mean, get to know each other, you might end up biting your tongue out. That would put a serious damper on all the fun we could have, don't ya think?"

The detective's eyes seemed to burn and his fists clenched, but he finally nodded in defeat. The insane clown removed his hand from Nashton's mouth. "I think we're getting along just swimmingly, don't you think so, Scarecrow?"

The Scarecrow smirked. Since he was holding the camera he could only be heard not seen, but his dripping sarcasm more than made up for the lack of a visual. "Oh yes, like three happy peas in a pod."

The Joker ruffled Nashton's hair before picking up the crowbar again. "Now as I was saying, this is an authentic crowbar, as was proven by my little demonstration on Eddie's leg. But a creative mind, such as my own, can come up with so many far more _interesting_ uses for a crowbar."

Nashton's eyes widened and he started struggling again. Apparently, he also had a creative mind and didn't like where the Joker was going with this. Meanwhile, the clown had gone over to the Bunsen burner and turned it on, crowbar still in hand. "You see a crowbar has a curved end and a straight end." He turned from the burner for a moment and gestured to both ends of the bar. "Both ends are kind of sharp. Not like a knife or anything, but good enough to tear skin."

The detective raised himself as far as he could from the table and rocked his body in an attempt to force the table off the cinder blocks. It was a far enough distance off the floor that it might break the table legs and give him enough leverage to break out of the ropes. The Joker looked over at him and sighed as though he was dealing with a particularly naughty child. The clown grabbed Nashton's hair and slammed his head backwards into the table. The detective was stunned by the impact and didn't try struggling while the Joker adjusted the table to ensure it was still safely on the blocks.

The Joker rubbed his hands together, "Now where was I? Ah yes, the uses of a crowbar. Well, see, I've noticed that us, more _colorful_ members of Gotham society always have something that makes us instantly recognizable. The Scarecrow has his burlap mask, the Batman has his pointy eared suit of armor and I have my bea-U-tiful face." The Joker grabbed the camera and pressed his face close to show off his scars. He gave the camera back to the Scarecrow and walked back over to Nashton while still talking to the camera. "These _somethings _are always connected to who we are…they _define_ us. So what does all this have to do with a crowbar and Detective Edward Nashton?" The Joker gave a sinister chuckle, "Riddles are HIS strength."

The clown turned away from the detective, picked up the crowbar and put the sharp, straight end of it into the flame of the burner.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Commissioner Gordon felt sick. Since his phone call from the Joker last night he'd been unable to rest, scouring Detective Nashton's apartment for any clues that might tell him where the insane clown had taken the newest member of Gordon's police force. He had arrived in time to catch Batman searching the apartment. They didn't have much time to search together as Gordon had to summon other officers to avoid any suspicion. Batman had left with a few small clues, but the cop could almost feel the other man's doubt and concern. Detective Bullock had arrived at the scene moments after Batman slipped out the window. Bullock had banged on the doors of every neighbor in the hall and angrily questioned each one. Everyone had recognized the clown's nightmarish laughter and no one had dared to call the police. Hours of questions and frustrations later and Gordon couldn't bring himself to return home. He drove to his office instead.

It was still quite early but most of the morning staff had already arrived. There was tenseness in the air as he stepped into the building. Clearly, word had gotten out about Nashton's disappearance. The commissioner walked over to the main reception desk. "Has any mail come in for me?"

The receptionist shook her head, "Not yet, sir, but I'll run to your office the moment it comes in."

Gordon nodded and turned away. Someone had obviously let slip that the Joker had threatened to send a video. The last man to end up in one of the clown's little films had ended up dead at the end of a rope…Gordon shook his head violently. He couldn't think that way, not yet. Batman might've found something and perhaps…He stepped into his office and looked down at his desk. There was a bright green piece of paper folded on his desk. The commissioner's eyes widened and he grabbed it, swiftly unfolding it. The writing inside was a large, sloppy scrawl.

_Dear Gord-o, _

_Changed my mind about sending my little film to you. Sent it to Gotham City News instead. They were informed to play it in time for the 9 A.M. news. Don't worry if you missed it already, I'm pretty sure it'll be played more than once._

_Love,_

_The Joker_

The commissioner checked his watch. It was 8:50. He immediately contacted Batman. It rang once before it was picked up. "Commissioner?"

Gordon wasted no time. "There was a letter from the Joker in my office. He changed his mind about sending the film to the police station. Apparently he sent it to the news channel instead. I'm assuming he threatened them into not contacting the police about it before they show it. He gave them strict orders to play it at 9 A.M."

"The video may give us a clue where they've taken Nashton."

Gordon ran a nervous hand through his hair, "If he's still alive."

Batman's voice was firm. "He's alive. This isn't like the impersonator he murdered to get to me. The Joker is after Nashton specifically. Whatever he wants, he needs Nashton alive for it."

Gordon took a deep breath. He prayed Batman was right. "I have to tell the other officers to turn the T.V. on. It's almost time."

They hung up.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Detective Bullock stood next to Commissioner Gordon as a crowd of police staff watched the T.V. in Bullock's office. The news anchorwoman had warned the audience that no one in the newsroom had been allowed to view the material due to threats against the lives of those in the building. She warned them that given the source of the material that it would likely be violent and offensive. In Bullock's mind those words didn't begin to describe what the Joker and Scarecrow had done to Detective Nashton. The staff watched in horrified silence as the Joker heated the sharp end of the crowbar in the flame of the Bunsen burner until the metal was red-hot. They watched as Eddie's eyes widened in horror as the Joker approached him and scraped the hot, sharp metal against Eddie's chest. The young detective let out a muffled scream of agony, his body desperately trying to writhe away from the pain.

The Joker shook his head and clucked his tongue_,_ _"Now this won't do at all detective. How am I supposed to draw clearly with you moving around so much?" _He gestured towards the camera._ "A little help?"_

The camera was jostled as the Scarecrow placed it back on its tripod and stepped into the frame. He held down Nashton's shoulders as the Joker wrapped ropes around his waist and even his forehead, forcing the detective tightly against the table. Suspiciously the Joker and Scarecrow hadn't tied ropes across Nashton's chest, leaving it completely bare. The Scarecrow moved back to his spot behind the camera and the Joker picked the crowbar back up. It had cooled down slightly so he returned it to the fire for a few moments to get it red-hot again. The Joker approached Nashton again and the detective squeezed his eyes shut as the clown raised the crowbar again. Another muffled scream, but this time Nashton couldn't move away from the pain. The Joker's body blocked Nashton's chest from view, so whatever he was carving remained a mystery. However, the detective's bound hands seemed desperate to claw at the air, compulsively flexing open and closed as he continued to scream in agony. After several minutes of this torture the Joker pulled away and Nashton slumped in his bindings, panting noisily despite the gag.

The Joker stepped back and admired his work. A slightly curved line had been burned into Nashton's chest, forming an arc over his heart from just above one nipple to just above the other like a sadistic rainbow. The Joker smiled proudly at the camera. _"Now ya see, if I had tried that with a knife the burn would be faaaarrr too thin. You'd hardly notice it!"_ He pointed to the mark he'd left on Nashton's chest, _"But see how the crowbar carves a nice, thick line? That'll leave a really great scar. Of course, we're not even close to done, but I didn't want our good detective to pass out on us."_ He smiled down at Nashton, _"Ready for round two?"_

The detective moaned and shook his head. Tears were beginning to fall down his face. The Joker gave him an affectionate pat on the head and stuck the poker back into the flame. _"I've gotta admit I think I stretched the line just a little too far, so I'm gonna hafta start this next mark on your left nipple. I hope you're not too sensitive there."_

The glowing tip of the crowbar scraped across the detective's skin and he shrieked desperately. The Joker ignored his victim's agony and continued to carve downward, once again blocking the camera from seeing what he was carving. Instead of carving in one smooth line, the Joker made many short scratches that he joined together so that the markings were connected but a bit ragged looking. Every time he got up to reheat the crowbar, the camera followed the Joker's movements to avoid revealing what was being carved into Nashton's chest.

Bullock had lost track of how long the horror show went on for. He noticed that Nashton had stopped screaming and had broken down into muffled panting sobs and moans of agony. While the Joker was blocking most of Nashton's chest, he had positioned himself so that the detective's face could be seen over the clown's shoulder. Blood from where the ropes cut into his forehead mingled with the sweat and tears on the detective's face. His wrists and ankles were equally bloodied. Bullock dimly noticed that Nashton wasn't wearing any shoes or socks, but then, he'd probably been in bed when he was kidnapped. It wasn't like the Joker or Scarecrow would be considerate enough to let him put on his shoes.

At long last the Joker pulled away from his victim, who seemed on the verge of passing out. The Joker dropped the crowbar and gestured towards Nashton's chest like a proud artist towards a particularly marvelous painting. Carved into Edward Nashton's chest and stomach was a giant question mark, the highest point reaching just under his clavicle and the lowest point ending mid-stomach. His navel acted as the dot at the bottom of the question mark, though it was obvious from the raw redness of the skin around the navel that the Joker had decided to push the hot metal into it anyways.

The clown smiled at the camera, "Questions anyone?"


	15. Chapter 15

_Disclaimer: Batman= DC + Warner Bros._

_A/N: Thanks to everyone for all the wonderful reviews! Keep them up; they're the kindling that keeps my fire burning! Also, I should warn some readers that this chapter involves some minor abuse within a couple. _

Serial Killer

The Joker had gone with Harley to hold up the Gotham News station, leaving Jonathan and Persona to bring Detective Nashton back to their real hideout. The Joker had wrapped a ratty old blanket around Nashton so the women wouldn't see the full horror of what had happened to the detective, not out of any sense of shame, but because he didn't want to ruin the surprise when they got to see it on T.V. While the Joker and Harley had sped off in his car, Jonathan and Persona had carefully put the unconscious Nashton in the backseat of the stolen van they'd used to kidnap him. When they had gotten back to the hideout, Persona had cleared Jonathan's worktable off and covered it in blankets and pillows in an effort to make it at least a somewhat comfortable makeshift bed. Luckily, Nashton was fairly light for a man and Jonathan and Persona were able to easily carry him down the rickety stairs. After carefully covering him up and checking to make sure his heart rate and pulse were normal, Jonathan had led Persona up the stairs to wait for the 9:00 A.M. news.

Jonathan watched the events of the night before unfold with clinical eyes, at least at first. As Nashton's muffled screams and desperate tears continued on the small screen, Jonathan sensed Persona's growing uneasiness. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as she wrapped her arms around herself and a few tears began to glide silently down her face. A part of him itched to turn the T.V. off, but he knew that it was too late to change anything now. When the news clip at last ended and the screen went back to a now shaking anchorwoman, Jonathan turned to face Persona. She must have felt his movement because she turned to glare at him, her eyes like icy steel.

Jonathan sighed, "I know it seems awful, but really…"

He didn't get to finish, as Persona cut him off with a remarkably hard slap across his face. "You monster! How could you help that sick _clown_ do such a thing?"

Jonathan carefully readjusted his glasses to their proper position on his face, while struggling to hold back the Scarecrow from taking over. Persona was smart enough to know what was happening and jumped to her feet, but Jonathan's hand shot out and painfully grabbed her wrist. Jonathan's eyes matched her icy glare with blue fire and he answered her in a voice shaking with barely repressed anger. "_Sweetheart_, the Scarecrow and I don't appreciate it when you interrupt us." He paused, watching as some of the ice melted out of Persona's eyes, slowly being replaced by fear. "So why don't you sit back down, nice and cozy next to us, and apologize for being so _rude._"

Jonathan had never been so angry at Persona before and for the first time, he really wanted to hurt her. The Scarecrow used his anger to help gain more control over their body and began digging his fingernails deep into the delicate blue veins of Persona's wrist until she cried out and put her other hand on top of his, desperately trying to pry his fingers off.

"Stop it Jonathan, you're hurting me!" Her voice was laced with a level of panic he had never heard from her before; a sound as beautiful to him as her wide, tear filled eyes and trembling pink lips. He was suddenly on his feet, his free hand grabbing her other wrist, now digging his fingernails into both of her lovely wrists. She kicked at one of his shins, but he moved just in time to avoid it and took advantage of her unsteady footing to trip her to the ground. Persona landed hard on her back, a breathy gasp letting Jonathan know that she'd had the wind knocked out of her. He quickly took advantage of her weakness to straddle her hips and pin her arms above her head.

Jonathan waited a moment so Persona could catch her breath a little, but before she had enough strength to speak he leaned forward, pressing his body against hers. Their faces were now so close he could lick the tears from her face. _A good idea, Johnny, _the Scarecrow whispered to him. Jonathan smirked and his tongue slid out, carefully capturing one of her tears. He curled his tongue around it, bringing it to his mouth, then pulled back enough so Persona could watch him close his eyes and savor the salty sweet taste of her tears. He felt her shiver beneath him and it sent a wave of lust coursing through his body.

"Johnny, please, I'm sorry for hitting you. I, I shouldn't have done that. Please let go of my wrists now, they hurt so badly and my fingers are starting to tingle…" She trailed off, her voice shaky despite an obvious attempt to sound calm.

Jonathan opened his eyes, face still hardly more than a breath away from hers. He'd never felt this aroused by anyone in his entire life, seeing a woman as bold and tough as Persona tremble beneath him…He leaned forward and tried to kiss her lips, but she turned away. Instead his mouth hit her cheek and another tear slipped between his lips. He rolled it around on his tongue, closing his eyes and practically purring.

Persona tried again to reason with him, "The Joker and Harley will be back soon. Didn't the Joker say he wanted the detective alive?"

Jonathan moved his lips to hungrily kiss her neck, "He's fine."

Persona tried to ignore Jonathan's hot mouth caressing her neck and continued talking. "He's badly wounded. If we don't want him to get a serious infection we should probably clean and treat his injuries…"

Jonathan growled in her ear, annoyed that she seemed so damned concerned with the well being of a stranger instead of him. The Scarecrow echoed Jonathan's thoughts with words edged in jealousy; _She has forgotten whom she belongs to Jonathan. She speaks of another man even while lying in your arms._

The thought caused another surge of anger to rush through his veins and he bit down hard onto Persona's neck. She screamed and bucked underneath him, almost managing to throw him off and freeing one of her arms. She quickly grabbed one of his ears despite her almost numb fingers and yanked him back as hard as she could. The movement caused Jonathan's glasses to go flying but he was too far-gone now to seem to notice. "Jonathan, please listen to me!"

His eyes were as bright as the blue flames at the heart of a fire, all reason seemingly replaced with anger and lust. His voice seemed deeper than usual and twisted with madness, "I've waited long enough, Persona! You're mine, mine!"

He lunged forward and tackled her back to the ground, struggling to get her back into her previous, helpless position. A hint of surprise worked its way through the fog in his brain when she suddenly stopped struggling and allowed him to pull her wrists above her head. He looked down at her face, but found her eyes strangely unreadable. It made him pause, a thread of confusion distracting him from his bout of madness.

Seeing an opportunity to reach him, Persona spoke very gently. "I'm yours, Johnny, all yours." She paused waiting for Jonathan to register her words. "I'm just worried about what the Joker will try to do to _you_ if he comes back to find a dying prisoner."

The logic in her words reached through to Jonathan at last and he loosened his grip on her wrists. The Scarecrow howled in protest, but when Persona lifted her lips to Jonathan's and placed a delicate kiss on his mouth, even the Scarecrow went quiet. A sigh escaped Jonathan's lips and he felt the irrational anger that had taken hold of him slowly dissipate. Without a word he gently let go of her wrists and, with some reluctance, he lifted himself off her. He crawled to where his glasses had fallen and blew on them gently to get any dust off them, also checking for scratches. Finding none, he slowly placed them on his face. He heard her clothes shifting as she sat up. Jonathan found himself strangely reluctant to look at her, an awful feeling spreading through his gut, but he couldn't quite pinpoint why. At last he looked towards her and watched as she gently inspected her bruised wrists. There was blood from where his nails had cut right through her skin and into those oh so delicate looking blue veins.

Jonathan looked away from her as he finally realized what the awful feeling was.

_Shame._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Edward Nashton had been awoken by the sounds of a woman's cries of pain. The instinct to help pushed him to move but even the slightest movement caused an eruption of pain to burst across his chest. He gasped at the sensation, his groggy mind struggling to put together what was happening to him. Kidnapped by the Joker and Scarecrow, tortured in front of a camera, burns…_I must've lost consciousness. _

He looked towards the staircase and tried to decipher what the argument was about, but the words did not come through clearly enough. A loud thud caused his body to tense, experience had taught him to recognize the sound of a falling body and for a moment he feared the woman had been killed. He felt strangely relieved when he heard the fight resume, though he desperately wanted to get up and help her. Unfortunately, his aching muscles refused to allow him to do anything more than turn his head and he was forced to simply listen. At last, the voices dimmed down to a murmur and long minutes of silence passed by. Eddie wondered who was involved in the argument. Quinzel had been present at his kidnapping, he knew for sure, but he had been knocked unconscious while still in his room and therefore was unable to check if the other woman was also there.

In the sudden silence, Eddie became more aware of his own circumstances. He was definitely not in the same room he had been tortured in. While narrowed eyes scanned the room as carefully as he could, it occurred to him that he was not only in a different room, but a different building altogether. This room was clearly the basement of a small house, not the toy store he'd been originally brought to. It was also clear that he wasn't actually on a bed; the hardness of the surface and distance to the ground suggested he was actually on another table. The sound of the door opening brought his eyes back to the staircase and he watched as the Scarecrow began to descend. Eddie was somewhat surprised that the Scarecrow wasn't wearing his mask and was holding what appeared to be a first aid kit.

Crane pulled a chair over to the table and placed his first aid kit down on it. "So you're awake. I trust you're feeling a bit under the weather this morning?"

The ex-doctor's condescending smirk got under his skin, and Eddie couldn't resist returning the favor. "From what I heard upstairs, I can't be much worse off than your girlfriend."

The Scarecrow's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Persona is fine." He hissed between clenched teeth, "Mind your own damn business."

Nashton made a mental note to remember that the fake nurse was apparently going by the code name Persona, and then he glared back at the psycho in front of him. Okay, so baiting the Scarecrow when he was still in a clearly crappy mood was probably not one of Eddie's best ideas, but he was pissed off, in a lot of pain and desperately wanted to lash out at one of his tormentors. "You realize that I'm a cop, so domestic abuse actually is part of my business…"

The corners of Crane's mouth seemed to twitch a bit, as though he was struggling to maintain a neutral expression. After a few moments his face went poker calm and he smiled slightly. "You know, I was going to use ordinary antibiotics to clean up those wounds of yours, but perhaps you'd prefer iodine?"

Eddie tensed slightly, a response ready on his lips, when a woman's voice cut him off. "I've got some water and plain toast for him to start off with, Johnny. I didn't think it'd be good to give him anything too heavy right away."

Both men looked at the staircase where a brunette woman in a black mini-dress and fishnet stockings, as Nashton recalled the basis of her witch costume, slowly stepped down. She was balancing a very full glass of water in one hand and a plate in the other. Her face looked very pale, save for her slightly pointy nose, which was still a bit red from her crying, and dark circles haunted underneath her eyes. Eddie also couldn't help noticing that she had a great set of legs. He smirked when he remembered something Bullock had said to him when they first saw the footage of Harleen Quinzel and the mystery woman in their costumes, _'bad guys get way hotter girls.'_

Unfortunately, Crane noticed the smirk. "You seriously want me to pour iodine all over you, is that it?"

Nashton winced as he realized how stupid he was being. The Scarecrow was very obviously on a short fuse at the moment and continuing to push his buttons was not only putting Eddie's own life at risk, but possibly the woman's life as well. He decided to swallow his pride. "Look, I'm sorry. Please don't use the iodine on me. The pain's already awful…I can't think clearly…I just keep saying whatever comes to my head to distract myself…you know?"

Crane stared at him for a long moment before finally relenting. "Very well. I'll put the iodine away for now. I trust I won't have any further lapses in manners?"

Eddie gave a defeated sigh, "I'll be good."

The Scarecrow gave a curt nod and pulled the blanket off of Eddie's chest, folding it below his waist. The former doctor silently began cleaning and treating the wounds on Eddie's chest, wrists and forehead. Persona quietly pulled another chair over and placed the food and water on it. "Is there anything I can help with, Johnny?"

Crane frowned for a moment, still concentrating on his task, then handed her a tube of the antibiotic he'd been rubbing over Eddie's chest. "Put some of this on his ankles. As I recall the ropes cut them as well last night." He paused then looked up at her, "and when we're in front of an enemy, call me Scarecrow."

For a split second she seemed confused, but then she just nodded her head, "OK."

While she began gently rubbing antibiotic on his ankles, the Scarecrow began preparing a syringe. The sight of it instantly evaporated any sense of calm Eddie had started feeling and his whole body tensed. The Scarecrow smirked slightly, "I'm admittedly not used to telling people _not_ to be afraid, detective, but in this case you can relax." The former doctor pressed the plunger to get any last air bubbles out of the needle, "I'm only giving you a mild painkiller. You might feel a bit drowsy, but it won't knock you out completely. Once it kicks in, Persona and I will help you drink some water, so you don't become dehydrated."

Eddie nodded and warily watched the Scarecrow inject the needle into his arm. The pain slowly started to recede and he suddenly felt very calm and peaceful. The Scarecrow moved behind him and lifted him into a sitting position while Persona moved in front of him and gently placed a glass against his lips. It wasn't until that first sip that Eddie realized how parched he was and he tried moving forward to get more of the cool liquid down his throat as fast as possible. Persona moved the glass back. "Easy, easy, if you go too fast you might choke."

Not feeling particularly articulate, Eddie made a sound like a cross between a moan and a whine. The glass was placed back against his lips and he closed his eyes blissfully. The sound of a door banging open was hardly even registered by his drug-addled senses.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Persona's frazzled nerves caused her to jump slightly at the loud noise, but she was proud of herself for having enough control to pull the glass away from the detective instead of accidentally bashing it into his teeth. He made an almost babyish sound of protest and she instinctively put the glass back to his lips. She looked up at Jonathan but his eyes were focused on the open door at the top of the staircase.

The Joker suddenly jumped into view, "Honeys I'm home!"

He bounded down the rickety stairs paying no heed to their creaks of protest, then stopped at the bottom to straighten out his jacket and attempt to smooth out his messy, greasy hair. "So how's our guest of honor?"

Jonathan shrugged calmly, "I gave him some antibiotics and painkiller, so he wouldn't die of any infections…but you'll be happy to know, before I gave him the painkiller he was being an arrogant, smarmy, pain in the ass."

The Joker grinned and playfully ruffled the detective's hair, "That's my boy!"

Detective Nashton looked up at him in confusion for a moment then went back to sipping calmly at the water. Johnny raised an eyebrow at the Joker. "I trust your escape from the police went well?"

The Joker's maniacal laughter filled the room for a moment and he gleefully sat down on the table next to Nashton's legs. The Joker grinned at his audience, "It did indeed, Johnny-boy. Not only did a couple police cars end up crashing, but I even took down a police helicopter! No chance they followed us back to the hide-out, that's for sure."

"Did ya tell 'em about my get away drivin' yet, Mistah J?" Harley eagerly chimed in as she bounced down the staircase. She beamed at them proudly, "He said I was a natural!"

The Joker pursed his lips, a look Persona had decoded as the Joker's expression for 'mild annoyance', but after a moment he was grinning again. "The only thing that might've made it even more fun was if the Bat decided to join in, but I guess he's not much of a morning person."

Johnny smirked, "Perhaps if you'd aimed for the news at noon he might've graced you with his presence."

The Joker laughed, "I'll have to figure out the Bat's daily schedule, see if I can match it up with my own. I'm really starting to miss the big, stupid lug."

Once Nashton finished the glass of water Persona pulled away so she wouldn't block his view of the Joker. His eyes followed her for a moment before turning back. He looked at the Joker as if seeing him for the first time, "Is there really a clown on my bed or am I hallucinating?"

The Joker laughed and clapped his hands in delight, "Probably a bit of both, Mr. Nigma."

The detective looked confused again, "My name is Nashton. Edward Nashton."

The Joker leaned forward until his face was uncomfortably close to the detective's, a predatory smile stretching his twisted lips, "No it isn't. Edward Nashton was the name given to you by people who hated you. Your real name is Edward Nigma. Doesn't Enigma sound familiar to you?"

Nashton blinked slowly, his drugged mind sluggish to put together the Joker's words. The detective nodded slowly, "Enigma is word. It means mystery or riddle…"

The Joker nodded encouragingly, "Don't the papers sometimes call you the Riddler? Just like they call me the Joker?"

Nashton shook his head slightly, "No, no, they call me the Riddler because I solve crimes not because I commit crimes…not like you…"

The Joker leaned even closer as though trying to mesmerize the detective with his dark, glittering eyes. Nashton tried to back up, but Jonathan was still holding him up in his sitting position, so he had nowhere to go. "Oh but you are like me Edward Nig-_ma_. More like me than you realize."

The clown pulled back and looked at Johnny. "You haven't shown him yet, have you?"

Jonathan shook his head, "No, I knew you wanted to see his reaction."

The Joker grinned and nodded turning his attention back to Nashton. "You wait right there." He punctuated his sentence by affectionately tapping the detective's nose. Then the clown was bounding up the stairs.

Persona turned towards Harley, still in full costume, and noticed the other woman shift uncomfortably. Their eyes met and the clown girl gave her a weak smile. Persona wasn't sure why but for some reason Harley's discomfort was actually a bit of a relief. It showed she wasn't completely gone; that the clown girl still had some compassion. The way they were standing left Persona with her back to Johnny and also allowed her to partially block Harley from his view. Harley suddenly frowned at her and subtly scratched at her neck. Persona bit her lip when she realized what Harley was hinting at. Jonathan's bite had left a very large, very ugly bruise on her neck. Persona managed to mouth the word,_ later, _just as the Joker appeared at the top of the stairs.

The clown was carrying down a large flat object, almost as tall and wide as himself. Persona instantly realized it was a mirror, but he was pressing the reflective side against his body to prevent Nashton from seeing his reflection too soon. "Harley grabbed the bottom of this thing. Persona, help Johnny get our buddy Eddie into a proper sitting position."

Persona carefully lifted the blankets completely off the detective and gently moved his legs so they would dangle over the table. Johnny adjusted his position behind Nashton to follow Persona's movements and more or less comfortably sit the wounded detective so he could face the Joker.

Once the Joker was down the stairs and only a few steps away from the table he gestured for Harley to lower her end of the mirror. She carefully placed it on the ground and stepped back. The Joker grinned warmly at the detective, "Now Eddie, I know you're a bit out of it thanks to the LSD or whatever the hell it was that ol' Scary gave you, but try to keep up with me anyways OK?"

The Joker waited until Nashton nodded. It seemed the fog of drugs was beginning to drift away from his mind and his eyes seemed a bit more focused. The detective's eyes met the Joker's and the clown continued. "Now, remember what I was saying about you and me being so much alike? Well it's not just that we have nicknames that end in 'er'. You see, you and me, we can't run away from our gimmicks…" He licked his lips excitedly, "Not anymore."

The Joker turned the mirror around so that Edward Nashton could finally see the massive scar on his chest. Persona braced herself for a scream, but it never came. Instead Nashton stared silently at his reflection for several long, silent, minutes. He raised a hand and traced the scar gently with his fingertips, the expression on his face a mixture of horror and wonder. When he finally spoke, no one in the room was prepared for the words that came out of his mouth.

"Riddle me this…" and then he started laughing.


	16. Chapter 16

_Disclaimer: Batman= DC + Warner Bros._

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I really appreciate the time and effort it takes to review, so I want you all to know how inspiring it is to hear your thoughts. I'll be the first to admit this might not be one of my stronger chapters, but it's necessary to fill in some gaps. Also, there will be cursing in this chapter, but given the circumstances it'd be pretty unrealistic not to have some._

Serial Killer

Commissioner Gordon stood in the middle of what had to be the creepiest toy store ever built. It didn't matter that it was less than an hour after the morning news had aired and the sun was shining brightly outside, no light seemed powerful enough to permeate the gloom. Detective Bullock and several uniformed police officers moved as silently as ghosts through the building's lower level. Gordon held little hope that Nashton and his captors were still here, but he was determined to act as though they were, on the off chance that the police could get the drop on them. Bullock gestured towards him and Gordon saw the other man standing next to a staircase that was almost hidden in the corner of the main room. The commissioner gave a sharp nod and Bullock began quietly ascending the stairs. The slightest creak in the old wooden steps seemed unnaturally loud in the eerie silence. Gordon moved across the room to follow, gesturing for two of the uniformed officers to come with him and the rest stand guard on the main floor.

The second floor only had three doors, all closed, so Bullock moved to the farthest door. He stood in front of it waiting. Gordon picked the middle door signaling for the other two to ready themselves at the last door. When everyone was ready, they opened their doors as quietly as possible, hoping to get the jump on whoever might still be there. The doors creaked loudly, but louder still was Bullock's angry curse.

"Damn it! We missed them! We fucking…" Bullock punched the wall, "We missed them!"

Gordon hurried out of his empty room and into the room Bullock was in. When he entered he felt his stomach churn.

Almost everything was there. The blood spattered table, ropes, crowbar and Bunsen burner…all that was missing was the camera itself. The commissioner ran a hand through his hair. "They must've left right after the filming." He gestured to the room around him, "This was never really their hide out, it was chosen specifically for making their _film._"

Bullock put on a pair of medical gloves and began inspecting one of the blood-coated ropes. "How did you find out about this place, commissioner?"

"An anonymous tip." Gordon moved towards the table. He wasn't going to mention to Bullock that the tip had come from the Batman only minutes after the video had been played on the news. Apparently he'd been able to use the background in the video to deduce the location.

Bullock nodded, "It's actually…it's not as much blood as I was expecting…"

Gordon turned to him. Bullock's face looked ashy gray, like he was about to be sick, but beneath it Gordon could sense a simmering anger. It was hard to look the detective in the eyes, so the commissioner looked at the crowbar. "Well, as painful as getting…scarred by a red hot crowbar would be, it'd automatically cauterize the wound. Most of the blood in this room would actually be from Nashton struggling against the ropes."

"He wasn't just struggling," Bullock muttered darkly, "He was convulsing in agony. He couldn't help himself…"

Gordon looked at Bullock sympathetically, "I know, detective. I know."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dr. Margaret Yan watched nervously as the most intimidating man she'd ever known paced angrily back and forth in her apartment. He had never been so bold as to visit her in broad daylight before; normally he was dead set against such risks. Yet lately he had been getting less predictable and the thought alarmed her. So many of the innocent women and children of Gotham depended on his ruthless sense of justice to protect them from the filth of this city.

He addressed her at last, "I can only assume that I have angered God."

Margaret gasped softly, "No, Messenger, don't say that!"

The tall, fearsome looking man shook his head. "I fear it is true, my most loyal disciple. I have committed a terrible sin and God has seen fit to punish me by punishing the detective I had tried turning to for help."

She shook her head, "What sin could be so horrible that God would see fit to punish an innocent man?"

The Messenger sighed, "I led one of God's most helpless lambs to danger and in my arrogance I failed to protect her. Now the enemy has polluted her with darkness."

Margaret turned away from him, "I warned you that she was not ready. For all her strength and cleverness, her amnesia left her far too vulnerable…"

"NO! God had taken her memory away for a purpose. Who was I to challenge His decision by giving her back her identity? Her purse, and all the knowledge of her past had to be destroyed. There was no sign of children or a husband, she was free to start over." His voice sounded so certain.

The doctor bit her lip, "What about _her_ parents? Brothers, sisters…even if she wasn't a mother doesn't mean she didn't have a mother of her own…"

"No one came looking for her."

"But what if she wasn't from…"

The Messenger slammed his hand against a wall. "Enough! It is not her past that we need to be concerned about, but her future. However terribly I have failed God, he has not totally abandoned me. Both our lost lamb and the detective have been stolen from us by the same evil forces."

Hope filled Margaret's eyes, "If you find the enemies' lair, you will find both of our lost souls."

The Messenger nodded grimly, "Not only them, my disciple, but with them will be the Scarecrow. I will at last be able to discover the secret of his fear toxin and use it to purge the city of all those that prey upon the weak and helpless."

Margaret held her hands together in front of her heart. "God give you strength."

He repeated her gesture, "And you as well."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harley decided that she really liked the new guy. Oh sure, things had started a little rough with him but he had a great laugh. It wasn't nearly as delightful as Mistah J's, but it was nice to hear. Unfortunately, the laughter turned into a scream when the detective attempted to stand up. He would've crumpled to the floor had Persona not caught him just in time.

While Persona was carefully helping him sit back down, Harley noticed the Joker glare at Johnny. The Joker smacked his lips in annoyance, "Did ya remember to bandage his leg, Johnny?"

Crane's eyes met the Joker's evenly. "I was in the process of treating his injuries when you came down. I figured the open wounds were more pressing since they were more likely to get infected. The break in his leg is fairly straight forward, it won't be hard to set."

The Joker's dark eyes continued to stare him down, but Jonathan remained unflinching.

"When you two wrap up playing 'who blinks first', I could use a little help over here." Persona's voice was surprisingly acidic as she helped Nashton onto the table.

Jonathan frowned and walked over to the table. "Don't bother putting the blankets back on him, they'll just get in the way."

Harley turned to the Joker, "He blinked first Mistah J."

The Joker looked at Harley and pursed his lips. A soft chuckle interrupted before the Joker could respond. Even though he was lying down, Nashton had managed to turn his head to watch them while Crane was preparing another needle and Persona neatly folded blankets. Despite the pain clearly etched into his face, the detective's green eyes seemed to glitter with mischief. "It's nice to know, that if this whole 'policeman' thing doesn't work out for me I can always just walk into Arkham and get a job."

Jonathan smirked, "What's really sad is that even though I used my patients to conduct experiments, made deals with the mob and broke dozens of health and safety codes, I still did a better job running it then the people they have now."

Harley pouted, "Hey, I worked hard to get that internship! I'm a really good psychiatrist!"

The Joker burst out laughing and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Well, they do say laughter's the best medicine Harley-girl."

Jonathan turned to the two clowns. "Now, if you don't mind, I will need to focus if I'm going to fix his leg so…"

The Joker grinned, "Not a problem, Johnny. There's just one question I need to ask our new friend here about."

Nashton narrowed his eyes, "Oh?"

The Joker's grin widened until it looked painful. "What's your favorite color?"

The detective looked confused for a moment then rolled his eyes. Harley thought it was so sweet that Mistah J cared about little things, like getting to know his friend's favorite colors…

"Green, my favorite color is green."

The Joker nodded his head with surprising seriousness. "Good choice. A very good choice. My favorite is purple but green is a definite close second. I mean, uh, just look at my hair." He turned to Harley and grabbed her wrist, "Let's go, Harl, we've got _things_ to do."

With that he dragged her up the stairs.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jonathan watched them go then looked down at his 'patient'. Nashton looked up at him with surprising calm. "You really are going to fix my leg, aren't you?"

Crane nodded, "Yes, I am."

"Why? I mean, not that I'm complaining, but why would the Joker break it one minute then almost throw a hissy fit at you for not fixing it the next?"

Jonathan shrugged his shoulders. "The Joker wanted to cause you a lot of pain but with minimal damage, hence why most of his torture was focused on your skin. The broken leg might've been a heat of the moment thing, but I think it's more likely that he figured breaking your leg would make it easier to keep you prisoner."

Nashton frowned but said nothing.

Jonathan turned his attention to Persona, "You may go now, my dear. It's probably best you don't stay for this part."

A wary look crossed her face. "Why not? Was all that bothering with the painkiller just for show?"

Her accusation stung, but Jonathan was well aware that he had earned her mistrust. "Actually, I'm only suggesting you leave for _his_ sake. I can't set his leg properly without being able to see it, and to do that I need to take his pants off."

Persona looked suddenly embarrassed, "Oh, right…I'll uh…"

A sly smile crossed Nashton's face, "Scared she might see something she likes?"

The Scarecrow growled in his mind, _how dare he! I have had enough! She belongs to us! Let me out, Jonathan; let me out!_

Jonathan pushed away from the table and turned away from them. He clenched his fists and tried to calm the Scarecrow. Damn Nashton and his arrogance. _Yes, damn him, Johnny. He must pay for being so disrespectful…_

With his back turned to them and his mind distracted by Scarecrow, Persona took the chance to whisper to the detective. "You have to quit provoking him, he's trying really hard to hold the Scarecrow back."

Nashton looked confused and whispered back, "He is the Scare…" His eyes widened. "Wait, you mean he has two different personalities?"

Persona nodded, "Yeah and both of them are the jealous type."

The detective was about to say something when Jonathan suddenly turned around. He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his glasses. His voice was the kind of calm that promised a brewing storm. "Persona, sweetness, could you put on another pot of coffee?"

She watched him nervously, clearly trying to figure out whether he was really Jonathan or not. "Sure thing, Johnny. Was there anything else you'd like me to make? A sandwich maybe?"

Jonathan smiled calmly at her, "No, just make yourself comfortable in the kitchen until I come upstairs. We need to have a little chat."

Persona bit her lip; clearly she was remembering their 'little chat' from earlier that morning. She opened her mouth as if to protest, then thought better of it and closed her mouth again. She nodded in defeat and silently went up the stairs. Jonathan watched her until she softly closed the door, then turned his attention to the detective.

"You've been very disrespectful towards me, Mr. Nashton." Jonathan's voice was like ice, smooth but very, very cold. "I had almost been willing to forgive you, since you'd amused me by mocking Arkham. Unfortunately, that goodwill is most definitely gone now."

Nashton winced, "Look, Dr. Crane…"

Jonathan's face twisted into a demonic grin, "Oh no, there's no need for such formalities here…you can just call me Scarecrow."

The detective closed his eyes and muttered, "Damn it."

"Ah, did our lady explain to you the situation when we were distracted? Do you finally understand why I am one of the most feared men in Gotham?"

Nashton opened his eyes again and looked straight at him. "What are you going to do?"

The Scarecrow shrugged, his face the picture of calm once more. "Why I'm going to set your leg, of course. It seems to be what everyone wants me to do, regardless of the fact that I'm not a trained medical doctor." He chuckled softly, "Ah there's the fear I've been waiting for, detective. Rest assured, though I am capable of doing this properly. While I was selling my toxin for _recreational_ purposes, I had a side business of treating wounded criminals…you know, the types that are more worried about life in prison then whether the doctor they're visiting can actually help them. Turned out to be quite the lucrative endeavor."

The Scarecrow roughly undid Nashton's pants and pulled them off, not caring how badly he jostled the detective's leg. "Oh now that is a very _nasty _looking bruise, isn't it? Does it hurt if I press on it, _like this_?"

Nashton clenched his teeth and arched his back at the pain, but managed to repress his scream. He forced himself to smile at the insane ex-doctor, "You've got such great bedside manners. I bet all the patients fight over you."

The Scarecrow actually laughed, "I will give you credit, Nashton, you're certainly amusing. It's a pity I dropped the painkiller."

Nashton looked at the needle, which was still on the chair beside him ready to go. He swallowed, "Looks OK to me."

The Scarecrow smiled and calmly moved to the chair, picking the needle up. He looked at it for a moment then pointed it at the floor and pressed the plunger until the needle was empty. Then he dropped the syringe on the floor. "Oops, clumsy me!"

The detective swallowed, "If we're going to do this the old fashioned way, I'm going to need something to at least bite down on. I don't think the Joker will be happy if I end up biting my own tongue out because you set my leg without painkillers."

Jonathan frowned. The detective made a good point. As much as Scarecrow liked to think he could take on the Joker, Jonathan was well aware that they needed the clown's help against the Serial Killer. Help the Joker would undoubtedly revoke if the Scarecrow permanently damaged the Joker's pet project. The Scarecrow scowled; _fine you can set the jerk's leg._

Nashton was watching him with what could only be described as rapt curiosity. Jonathan took control of their body once more and looked around the room. He grabbed the detective's pants off the floor and with a little help from the scalpel in his first aid kit, tore one of the legs off. He rolled it up neatly and turned to Nashton.

"Open your mouth."

For once the detective didn't argue, opening his mouth and allowing Jonathan to shove the cloth into it. The ex-doctor moved back to his spot next to Nashton's leg and began carefully feeling for the break. When he decided where and how he needed to correct the injury he looked Nashton in the eyes. "Brace yourself."

Jonathan began setting the leg and Nashton's body arched, both his hands gripping the edges of the table, a muffled scream escaping around the cloth. A few more careful adjustments to the leg and Crane realized that Nashton had passed out. His first aid kit was large enough to fit a passable leg brace so he strapped it to the detective's leg. As an afterthought he threw a blanket over the unconscious Edward Nashton.

Jonathan made his way towards the staircase, _now to have a little talk with our dearest Persona…_


	17. Chapter 17

_Disclaimer: Batman= DC + Warner Bros._

_Disclaimer: Batman= DC + Warner Brothers_

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who has consistently reviewed! Reviews are like oxygen for an author!_

Serial Killer

Bruce Wayne sat at the bat cave's computer and reviewed footage of the chase between the Gotham police and the Joker. The crazed clown used a wide variety of weaponry on the cars, and even helicopters, that attempted to pursue him. These included a machine gun, a bazooka and several grenades. While the cops might've outnumbered him they were overwhelmed by his weapons and also couldn't risk the danger the clown posed to the civilians given that it was broad daylight. Eventually, the police had been forced to give up the chase and the Joker had been able to speed off.

Bruce frowned. He had given Commissioner Gordon the address to the abandoned toy store the Joker had tortured Detective Nashton in, but even at the time Bruce hadn't held much hope they'd still be there. He prayed Gordon would find some kind of clue that would point them in the right direction for tracing the criminals, yet with each passing minute, Bruce became less confident the police would find anything. The billionaire leaned forward and started mapping out on the computer the different locations the Joker had been spotted at in the past 24 hours. He then compared it to all the Joker and Scarecrow spottings since the criminals' escape. His eyes narrowed. There was a chunk of Gotham, far from the Narrows and the downtown core, which had seemingly escaped the criminals' attention. Bruce thought back to the night of the criminals' escape and the area they had abandoned Dr. Quinzel's car in. From what the map showed the part of the city past that point seemed to be left alone by the criminals…

Bruce sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He had done a solid job searching the area for any signs of suspicious activity that first night, but when the Joker and Scarecrow had started only showing up far from that area he hadn't bothered returning. It was an amateurish mistake. Clearly the criminals had been all too delighted to mislead him away from their true hideout. Bruce glanced at the clock. It was still pretty early in the day and he had a meeting with Lucius in an hour. But come nightfall the Batman would be on the hunt.

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Persona had tried to distract herself from what was happening downstairs by taking a quick shower and changing out of her costume. The shower had felt good but she couldn't completely enjoy it, unable to stop her mind from traveling to dark places. The hot water also seeped into the bandages on her wrists and stung terribly. Once she was out she put new bandages on, then quietly cursed Harley for picking out only shirts and dresses with short sleeves or straps. Unlike with her long-sleeved costume there would be no way for her to hide the bandages on her wrists. Persona sighed and grabbed a plain turquoise dress from the closet. On the hanger it had almost looked like an overly long t-shirt with a v-neck, so she was a little surprised at how well the dress flattered her body and complimented the color of her eyes. She had done her best to dry her damp hair with a towel then went back to the kitchen.

The coffee maker had finished while she was showering and Persona poured herself a cup. She sat at the kitchen table holding the burning hot cup in her hands and waited. She didn't even want to drink the coffee, but the pain from the heat distracted her somewhat from the sick feeling in her stomach. How long did it take to set a broken leg? Would Jonathan hurt Detective Nashton despite the Joker's unspoken warning? Was it her fault? That last one was the real kicker. The first question she didn't have an answer to, so it didn't make much sense to worry about it. She was pretty certain the second answer was that the Scarecrow would probably not cause further _damage_ to Nashton, but _would_ hurt him by not using painkillers. Persona knew she couldn't force the Scarecrow to drug Nashton and she certainly couldn't set the leg herself…but was his suffering her fault? For the first time since helping Jonathan escape she almost wished the Messenger would find her. His view of morality was so clear and easy to follow. No gray areas, just black and white. Persona swallowed and shook her head. If there was one thing she'd learned since abandoning the Messenger's cause it was that the world wasn't black and white, or even gray. It was filled with dark shadows, bright lights and dizzying colors; all seemingly designed to confuse and frustrate her mind until right was wrong, up was down and good just meant being less bad than the other guy.

She was so lost in her thoughts she didn't notice Jonathan enter the room until the sound of coffee pouring into a cup caught her ears. Persona looked up sharply but his back was to her. She tried to guess from his body language if she was with Jonathan or the Scarecrow, but it was difficult without being able to look at his face. For a long moment there was silence; the tension felt so thick it was like being buried alive in mud.

"I set his leg without the painkiller," Jonathan's voice was matter-of-fact despite his seeming refusal to turn around to face her. "In fact Scarecrow made a show of injecting the drug onto the floor before dropping the needle."

Persona cringed, but said nothing. Jonathan continued, "However, he did convince me to give him something to bite down on, so he wouldn't bite himself…He passed out fairly quickly so chances are good that the painkillers from earlier hadn't entirely worn off anyways."

Persona felt at least mildly grateful for that, not wanting the poor detective to suffer anymore, yet she still didn't know what to say. The silence finally got to Jonathan and he turned around. For a moment their eyes met, but Persona couldn't look at him for long. The look in his eyes confused her, sent _something_ crawling up and down her spine. Persona could feel Jonathan's eyes continue to watch her as he pulled one of the chairs closer to her and sat down.

Jonathan suddenly frowned and grabbed her arm, just above the bandages. "Let go of your cup or you'll end up burning yourself."

Persona obeyed and Jonathan used his free hand to pull the cup out of her reach then used both his hands to gently turn hers over. The palms of her hands and her fingers were an angry red. Persona stared down at them even as she could feel Jonathan's eyes staring at her face. She tried to pull her hands away and was a bit surprised when he let go. His voice held a simmering anger, "Why did you do this to yourself?"

Persona looked up at him and met his eyes. "Does it matter?"

It was his turn to look away. "I have never claimed to be a good man, Persona." He smirked slightly, "Hell I've made no secret of the fact I enjoy being quite the opposite."

"So you tortured that man downstairs just because you enjoy it?"

Jonathan let out an annoyed sounding breath. "The Joker wants Nashton because before the detective joined the police he was actually a very clever child criminal. His crime spree, though relatively harmless, caused a sensation in the city of Bolton because he left confusing riddles at his crimes. The police were baffled for months and the media ate it up. Unfortunately, Nashton was rehabilitated and fostered by none other than the Bolton chief of police, who no doubt pressured the young man into a career in law enforcement."

Persona frowned, "So the Joker wants to undo Nashton's rehabilitation and make him a criminal again…but why would the Joker want more competition?"

The Scarecrow actually laughed, "The Joker doesn't see people like me or Nashton as potential competition, he sees us as fellow agents of chaos. Well, not the detective yet, but the groundwork for him is certainly there. It's the gangsters and mob guys that the Joker has no respect for…in his eyes they're boring and old-fashioned."

Persona's voice went soft and she looked at her hands again, "That's why the Joker wants to hurt Nashton…that's not why you hurt him, why you made a show of wasting the painkiller and setting his leg without it…"

The corners of Jonathan's mouth seemed to twitch slightly as if he was struggling to maintain his neutral expression. She tensed, ready for violence, but he got himself under control. "The detective was being disrespectful. You missed some of it, when I first went downstairs, but you must've noticed the way he kept trying to get under my skin."

Persona struggled not to smirk, "You can't blame the guy for being a little pissed off at you."

Jonathan's eyes started to take on that feverish, rage-filled look from earlier. "Did he amuse you my dear? Did you like the way he looked at you and flirted with you right in front of me?"

She bit her lip. She had no idea how to respond so she said the first thing that came to her mind. "He was just being a jerk, Johnny, trying to get a rise out of you. I'm sure he doesn't even think I'm good looking and if Harley was there he wouldn't have given me a second glance…"

Jonathan cut her off, "Are you telling me that you didn't plan that dress?"

Persona looked at him in confusion, "Plan my dress?"

He stood up, "Yes, yes. To butter me up so to speak." He looked down at her even more confused expression, "To butter up means to soften, my dear. I thought you had picked that dress to…distract me."

She couldn't help smiling up at him, genuine and bright. "You think I look pretty?"

Jonathan gave a slightly self-deprecating smile, "I hardly thought I was being subtle about my attraction to you."

Her smile became a little embarrassed, "Keep in mind I have no memory of ever having a relationship or you know, _any _stuff like that…" Her expression darkened, "But I do know what you did earlier wasn't right, Jonathan."

He sighed and sat back down. He took a long sip of his coffee then fiddled with the cup. "I grew up in a very old-fashioned household in the South. My father abandoned my mother the moment he found out she was pregnant, my mother was far too young and too stupid to handle a baby and at my birth my grandmother suggested burying me alive. I know all this because my great-grandmother took delight in telling it to me, reminding me constantly how unwanted and unloved I was. She owned a farm and from a very early age she made me work the fields, though it was next to impossible for me to do everything. Her favorite method of punishing me was to put me in my Sunday suit and lock me up alone in an abandoned conservatory so the crows could peck and tear at me all night. Years later I discovered she put a mixture of herbs and mouse blood on the suit so the crows would be drawn to me."

Persona stared at him in horror. "Did you tell anyone?"

Jonathan snorted, "I didn't dare. I feared the wrath of my great-grandmother far too much and I seriously doubted if anyone would care anyways. I contemplated telling a few of my teachers, the ones who respected me for my intelligence regardless of my cheap clothes and lack of popularity, but fear kept me quiet. So I remained the ugly, skinny, creepy child that sat at the back of the classroom and everyone hated."

Persona shook her head and gently placed her hand over one of his, "Oh I'm sure you weren't ugly, Johnny…"

He actually laughed, "My granny didn't believe in dentists or doctors for that matter. Both my baby teeth and my adult teeth, especially my adult teeth, grew in terribly crooked. It wasn't until my short-lived career as a professor that I had a dental plan I could use to finally get my teeth fixed. When it became clear to granny that I had poor eyesight, bad enough for one of my teachers to talk to her about it, she got me the cheapest and ugliest pair she could find. I was too skinny and so socially awkward that even if I had been a handsome child people still wouldn't have liked me. As it was, I was a social pariah."

Persona cocked her head to the side, "Do you hate women because of how your great-grandmother treated you?"

Jonathan smirked, "Frankly, I didn't usually think of granny as a woman. I was very fond of fairytales as a child and was quite convinced she was a witch. Since most fairytales also have a beautiful princess or maiden in them, I was able to determine that women came in a wide variety of types and that granny was _far_ from typical." He looked down at her hand, absently stroking his. "Besides, while granny made my home life a hell, at school I was far more often the victim of boys than girls. The girls would point and tease, but that was all they would do. It was the boys who would get violent. My youth was filled with constant terror."

Jonathan went quiet. Persona found herself wondering how the Messenger would judge Jonathan if he knew the nightmare the doctor had been through. She doubted that he'd give a damn and that made her intensely angry. It took her a moment to realize that Jonathan was watching her, his face expressionless. She tried to give him an encouraging smile, "So, what you're trying to tell me is that relationships aren't your strong point either."

He smirked, "Perhaps we should change your name to 'Understatement.'"

She smiled brightly, "I don't think it has quite the same ring to it…" A thought occurred to her and her smile turned to a pout. "Wait a minute, you said you thought your evil great-grandmother was a witch and yet you stole a witch's costume for me. Are you comparing me to her?"

Jonathan started laughing. "To be honest I didn't really think about it. Believe me when I say that the last thing on my mind when picking out a costume made mostly of lace, satin and fishnets would be my great-grandmother. Frankly, it was dark and we were hurrying so I picked out the first costume that I recognized and assumed would fit you…besides you'd look pretty ridiculous in a princess costume." They both laughed. "However, since you pointed that out I don't think I'll be able to look at that costume the same way again."

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled, "Well my name's Persona, I can pretty much wear whatever I want and it'll make sense."

Jonathan stood taking her hand in his to pull her up with him, "Let's look at the clothing Harley got you and see if we can somehow butcher it into a new costume, hm?"

She smiled and let him lead her but when they passed the door to the basement she paused. "Jonathan, you know you don't need to be jealous of Detective Nashton, right?"

He sighed, "I've had my revenge, my dear. I can't promise the Joker won't hurt him again, but I'll try to control myself. Even if he is being an insufferable ass."

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The Joker had a tailor. For some reason that thought threw Harley's brain into a whirlwind. It was just so perfectly normal and ordinary but at the same time, where the heck did she _think_ Mistah J got his beautiful suit? The building was tucked away on a dirty little street that bordered the narrows. Tall, dilapidated buildings surrounded the little shop in enough shadows that even in broad daylight and in full costume, she and the Joker drew no attention. Not that there were many people walking about this area of town, anyways. Gustav the Tailor himself looked to be somewhere between one and two hundred years old, but he was the first person Harley ever saw that didn't shrink in fear at the sight of the Joker.

"Good afternoon Mr. Joker, how can I help you today?" Gustav smiled warmly and held out his hands, fearlessly taking the Joker's hand in his and giving it a friendly shake.

The Joker grinned down at him. "Actually, I've got a couple things I need from ya today, Gustav. First off, the asylum took away the suit I was brought in, so now I'm only down to this one and you know how I like to have a spare." Gustav nodded and pulled out a pencil and notepad from his dark apron. The Joker waited with surprising patience before continuing. "I also need a couple repairs made on this suit, because, uh, well you know, the hazards of the job…"

Gustav held up his hands, "I don't need to know. It's better that way, yes?"

The Joker grinned, "See, Harley, this is why I love the man. Customer loyalty through and through. Anyways, the last thing I need is a bit tricky. I have a, well, a _friend_ who needs a new suit. A special suit, kinda like mine, but _green_. Oh and maybe a little less flashy than mine…Think less clown, more classy…and question marks. You've gotta fit at least a couple question marks in there somewhere."

Gustav might have been old but he was sharp as a needle. Harley could tell the old man knew exactly whom the Joker wanted the suit for; just by the way his gray eyebrows rose at the Joker's mention of question marks. Yet he remained curiously unfazed by the knowledge. "This suit is to be a surprise for your friend, yes?"

The Joker nodded. "I know it'll be a bit tricky without him actually here and without any measurements…"

Gustav waved a hand. "If the suit doesn't fit him properly, you just tell him to come to old Gustav and I'll fix him up nice." He gestured for them to follow him towards a back room and flicked on a light. The room was filled with dummies. "You pick one that you think looks the most like your friend. Remember it's better to go a little too big than too small. Easier to make adjustments later on."

The Joker laughed and started looking through the dummies, picking up several than shaking his head muttering things like, "too fat", "too short", "too big"…

"Perfect!" The Joker proudly held up one of the dummies. "This is our guy right here Gustav…"

The old man smiled and nodded his head. "That looks about right, yes. Now, how about I fix up those little problem areas on your suit and then I can start on your new one and your friend's suit…"

The Joker shook his head. "We can fix up this one now, since I'm here, but don't worry about my spare suit until you get my friend's suit finished…he's kinda priority one at the moment."

Harley couldn't help clasping her hands together in admiration; Mistah J was just so thoughtful, putting the detective's needs before his own. Gustav must've noticed the Joker's eagerness as well. "I'll put my other clients on hold and focus on your friend's suit…I can have it done, maybe three days?"

The Joker grinned, "You're the greatest Gustav. Isn't he the greatest, Harley?"

Harley smiled brightly at the old man, "The bestest ever, Mistah J!"

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"This wins." Jonathan held up a pink velvet blouse with big daisies on it.

Persona looked at the shirt with mock horror. "Dear God, where did Harley find that thing?"

Jonathan smirked, "Well the point _is_ to strike terror into the unsuspecting."

She laughed. They were sitting in the middle of the living room going through the wide variety of clothing, mostly tacky, that Harley had stolen for Persona.

"I still think I should just wear something practical. Like the tight black jeans tucked into the boots and the red t-shirt that says 'Naughty Girl' in black glitter."

Jonathan shook his head, "Red and black are Harley's colors. Besides jeans aren't interesting enough."

Persona rolled her eyes. "You just wear a gray suit with a burlap sack on your head. Why can't I wear jeans?"

"That's not true. Sometimes I add a straightjacket." He looked at her and smirked. "Besides I'm not the one trying to show off my figure."

Persona grinned, "You should, I bet you've got great legs."

Jonathan glared at her. "Keep this up and I'll put you in the pink velvet."

She started laughing, "Have you no sense of mercy? Besides, you'd have to be seen with me."

"Point." Jonathan didn't really care what Persona wanted her costume to look like, but the activity seemed to make her happy. She had been surprisingly sympathetic when he'd told her about his youth, despite how cruel he had been to her and Nashton. In truth, it had been the only way he could think of to explain his actions. He glanced at the ugly bruise on her neck. Jonathan wasn't stupid though. She had been remarkably forgiving this time, but he knew he had to be much more careful with her from now on.

Jonathan lost track of time as he let his mind wander and didn't hear the basement door open. Persona jumped slightly and Jonathan looked up at her, his words dying on his lips when he realized where she was looking. He spun around to spot the detective standing at the top of the stairs, wrapped in a blanket and leaning heavily against the doorframe.

Nashton held up the hand that wasn't holding the blanket in a death grip, "I'm not gonna say a word, I just need some food and water. Some Aspirin or Advil would be lovely too."

Jonathan stood up and smiled. "Ah you're awake. Why don't you follow us into the kitchen detective? It's well past lunch and we haven't had anything but coffee at breakfast."

Nashton watched Jonathan warily but nodded. "Alright, sounds good."

Jonathan gestured for Persona to go first and she quickly took the hint, leaving as much room as possible between herself and the detective when she walked past him. Nashton gave her a quick glance, but swiftly returned his eyes to Jonathan's…clearly the detective had learned his lesson from the last time. Jonathan smiled slightly, "After you."

The detective said nothing but followed the direction Persona had walked. He kept one hand against the wall for support as he limped along. Jonathan walked slowly behind him. When they finally made it to the kitchen Nashton collapsed into the nearest chair. Jonathan smirked down at him, "I'll be back in a moment with an Advil."

To his surprise Nashton grabbed his arm, "Do you still have my other medication? Before you and the Joker started torturing me you showed off that you'd stolen my meds…I need those, too."

Jonathan looked down at where Nashton's hand gripped his arm. The detective reluctantly let go. Jonathan shook his head; "The Joker dumped them out the window after you passed out."

Nashton's mouth opened and closed several times. "Of course, he did."

Jonathan waited a moment but the detective said nothing else, so he left the room to grab the Advil. The washroom was close enough to the kitchen that if Nashton tried to talk to Persona, he'd be able to hear it. It remained silent until Jonathan returned.

Persona had given the detective a glass of water, which he was already half way through. Jonathan took Nashton's glass and re-filled it to the top, then offered him two Advils. The detective put both in his mouth and took a gulp of water. "Thanks."

Jonathan sat at the head of the table and turned to watch Persona, "What's for lunch, my dear?"

She turned from the tomato she was slicing. "Sandwiches. Would you like turkey breast or roast beef?"

"I'll have roast beef, thank you. What will you have Nashton?"

The detective looked up from rearranging the salt and peppershakers' positions around the sugar bowl. "Could I have one of each? I'm starving."

Persona smiled, "Sure. No problem."

Nashton glanced at Jonathan quickly before smiling at Persona. "Thanks."

The doctor in Jonathan watched Nashton carefully. It was the first time he could really see the detective's calm façade start to crack without actually inflicting any pain on him. The other man seemed completely unaware that Jonathan was watching him slowly rearrange the clutter on the kitchen table. Nashton took the newspaper that the Joker had been reading, well, more accurately scribbling on and pulled it towards himself. He also grabbed the red pen and began swiftly looking through the paper. The detective finally found what he was looking for, pulled the page out, and neatly folded the rest of the paper up. He then folded the sheet in his hand lengthwise, then widthwise to create a smaller, more manageable piece and smoothed it down on the table. Jonathan raised an eyebrow when he noticed Nashton's find was a crossword puzzle.

Jonathan smirked, "I had almost forgotten how you like puzzles."

Nashton looked up at him and smirked right back. "How long do you think it'll take me to complete?"

Jonathan shrugged, "Half an hour?"

Nashton gave a derisive snort, "Ten minutes. Tops."

There was a strange gleam in the detective's eyes that Dr. Crane would have pinned as 'obsession'. Jonathan smiled and glanced at the clock on the wall, "Alright let's see you do it in ten. Starting…now."

It was surprisingly fascinating watching how quickly the gears in Nashton's head worked. All it took was one word in a section and suddenly he would be filling all of the words around it effortlessly. Nashton's vocabulary and cultural knowledge must've been incredibly extensive. The puzzle was completed in just over seven minutes.

Nashton looked up proudly, "Piece of cake. So what do I win?"

Persona held out a plate, "Two sandwiches!"

Jonathan scowled for a split second while Nashton took his plate and neatly put it on the table. She made _both_ of Nashton's before…

His thoughts were cut off when a plate and glass were placed on the table in front of him. He looked up and Persona placed a kiss on his forehead, smiling. "I actually finished all the sandwiches while you two were enjoying your brain challenge…I didn't think you'd want me to interrupt."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Including your own?"

She laughed, "Are you kidding? I'm halfway through eating mine. I was just eating it at the counter so my movements would distract you. When I'm hungry tummy tops brain any day."

He glanced over at Nashton, the other man had quickly adjusted the blanket toga style around his body so his arms would be free and was starting on his first sandwich. Persona sat down at the table with her own plate and Jonathan started eating. It was a strangely peaceful moment so he wasn't enormously surprised when he heard the sound of the front door slamming open. The Joker had an uncanny ability to ruin things.

Nashton jumped and started coughing, taking a sip of water to stop himself from choking. Persona started stuffing the rest of her sandwich into her mouth, both hands holding the sandwich and her eyes watching the open kitchen door. She reminded him of a chipmunk worried that someone was going to steal her food. It was an apt comparison given the fact that the Joker had, on several occasions, stolen the food right out of hers and Harley's hands. The clown stepped into the kitchen, took one look at Nashton and burst out laughing.

"Hey Harley they're having a toga party in here!" He laughed again and grabbed one of the sandwich halves off the detective's plate. He took a bite, looked down at it, then grabbed one of the other halves, peeked inside, then placed the one he bit back onto Nashton's plate. "I prefer the turkey."

Harley giggled from the doorway.

Nashton scowled at the partly Joker eaten sandwich in disgust. "Well you can have this half, too."

The Joker looked up at him, mouth full of food. "Why what's wrong with it?"

Nashton carefully separated his remaining sandwich half from the contaminated one and placed the part he was eating on top of the good half. "I'm not eating something covered in your drool."

The Joker grinned, pieces of food falling from his mouth. "What's a little saliva between friends?"

Nashton recoiled in disgust, "That's revolting."

The Joker's face got serious, "Is it the scars?"

To Jonathan's surprise instead of reacting with fear to the Joker's sudden shift in mood, Nashton smirked. "Have you forgotten what you did to me? Scars I can deal with. Someone else's saliva all over my food I cannot. Especially when that someone has enough food stuck in his teeth to open a grocery store in his mouth."

The Joker swallowed his mouthful of food and stared at Nashton. Jonathan had never heard _anyone_ insult the Joker like that and live to tell the tale. The Joker's dark eyes seemed to glitter and a smile slowly spread across his face. "You're starting to change aren't you, Eddie Nigma?"

Eddie's eyes narrowed. "What do you hope to gain from this, Joker?"

The Joker leaned forward until his face was inches away from Nashton's, "If I knew, it wouldn't be so in-ter-esting."

Something mischievous slipped into Nashton's eyes, "So it's a game to you…"

The Joker grinned and straightened back up. "My favorite kind of game, the kind without rules."

The detective smirked and raised an eyebrow. "If it has no rules how do you know if you're winning?"

Jonathan gave a sharp laugh and all eyes were suddenly on him. "That one's easy for people like us, Edward Nigma. You know you're winning if no one's knocked your pawn off the board."

There was no mistaking the fire in Nashton's eyes now. They had him.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Batman belongs to DC and Warner Bros.

A/N: OK so this is the COMPLETELY ALTERED version of Ch.18 so please re-read it before moving onto Ch.19. Thanks!

Serial Killer

Harley sat on the floor in the middle of the room and glared at the closed kitchen door with indignation. She had taken off her harlequin hat in frustration when the door was slammed in her face but had left the rest of her outfit on. The Joker had practically thrown her and Persona out of the kitchen so he and Johnny could talk to the detective alone. Heck even Persona had been allowed to stay long enough to make the guys more sandwiches. Harley glanced at the other woman, who was now sitting quietly on the couch reading one of Johnny's psychology books. Harley began twisting one of her blond pigtails around her finger. She hated to admit it, but she didn't like the fact that the Joker preferred Persona's cooking to her own. Not that she thought for a moment that her Mistah J would ever be unfaithful, but…

"Harley if you were staring at me any harder your eyeballs would be crawling under my skin. What's wrong?" Persona set her book aside and patted the spot next to her on the couch.

The blond suddenly felt guilty. Persona had only ever been nice to her, and here she was worrying that her friend was gonna steal her man. Harley moved from her spot on the floor and sat next to Persona. "I'm just a little down that Mistah J kicked us out."

Persona sighed softly, "They'll never be good people, Harley. I mean, there might still be some hope for the detective, but even that grows thinner the more time he spends with them." She glanced worriedly at the door. "I'm not at all convinced that our charming little lunch, with everyone getting along, was sincere. We're dealing with masters of manipulation."

Harley gave her a surprised look, "You don't trust Johnny?"

Persona frowned, "I don't know. A part of me wants to but," she tenderly touched the bruise on her neck, "I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

Harley was quiet for a moment. She didn't like the serious feel to the room and she certainly didn't want to mention the bandages she just noticed on Persona's wrists. But there weren't a whole lot of ways a person could _accidentally_ cut both of her wrists…

Harley bit her lip and pointed to the bandages, "What happened?"

Persona looked a little startled, as though she had drifted off to her own little world for a moment. "Oh, these happened earlier, when Johnny gave me the bruise on my neck. I was wearing long sleeves before which covered them."

Harley gave her a sympathetic look, "How?"

Persona winced, "When Johnny was holding me down on the floor he dug his fingers into my wrists until they started to bleed. I mean, I guess I shouldn't totally blame Johnny, it was Scarecrow too."

"And the bruise on your neck?"

Persona stared at the floor. "He bit me."

Harley shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like where this was going. She wanted to suppress the psychiatrist in her and go back to being the happy-go-lucky clown girl she really was, but how to change the subject?

Persona looked up at her, "What should I do?"

Harley started playing with one of her pigtails again. She found the action rather soothing. "Well sometimes Mistah J can be a little rough too, but ya know, that's not really his fault. It's just his personality. If you really love a guy, you've gotta look past his faults and focus on the things ya like about him." She paused, thinking about it. "Like when Mistah J tied me up to the couch the other day, ya know, just bein' playful, and he bit me a few times. I mean, sure it hurt, but he was just tryin' to express his feelings."

Now Persona looked a bit uncomfortable. "He didn't bruise you though, did he?"

Harley smiled, "Well sure he did! Ya just can't see any of them cause my costume covers them."

Persona pulled her legs onto the couch and wrapped her arms around her knees. "It just doesn't feel right. I mean, afterwards Johnny and I had a long talk about things and then he offered to help me come up with a new costume…and even when the detective interrupted, Johnny was totally calm and polite. I guess I just don't feel comfortable because everything the Messenger and his doctor taught me seems to be exactly the opposite of what Johnny and the Scarecrow seem to stand for."

Harley put her arm around her. "Ah forget that Messenger loser. _I _think Johnny really likes you. OK so he went a little overboard with the violence last time, but I'm sure he's really sorry about it now." Harley smiled, "Besides, you mentioned you still need a new costume. Let's quit all this moping around and do something fun!"

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They had been talking for well over an hour. Debating was perhaps a more accurate term, but with the odds at 2:1 Edward knew he didn't really stand a chance at winning. Dr. Crane was letting the Joker do most of the talking for their side, content to watch as the clown hit every one of Eddie's weaknesses with surgical precision. The strangest part was actually his awareness of what was happening, the realization that even in his own mind he was beginning to refer to himself as 'Nigma' instead of 'Nashton'.

"Still with us, Eddie?" The Joker was smirking at him.

Nigma crossed his arms defensively. "It's not exactly like I can run away."

The Joker winced sympathetically, but the look was too exaggerated to be genuine. "Why Nigma, I'm hurt! You didn't think that I'd forget about my new buddy's little uh, _bad break_, did ya?" Joker stood up, went to the door and shouted. "Harley, get the you-know-what!"

"Comin' Mistah J!" In seconds Harley was at the door handing something to the Joker, only to have the door instantly slammed in her pretty face. Eddie winced.

The Joker turned around, proudly displaying a handsome black walking cane. The round gold ball that served as its handle was carved with a ring of question marks around it. "I was assured by my tailor that it'd go perfectly with your new sui-_t_."

Nigma looked up in confusion, "My new suit?"

The Joker rolled his eyes as he handed Eddie the cane. "You don't think Johnny and I are gonna take ya on a date with the Bat dressed like some lousy nobody, do ya?"

Nigma smirked, "I thought you liked the blanket toga."

The Joker licked his lips and leered down at Eddie until the smaller man started to squirm. The Joker bent down until his face was only inches away, "Oh don't get me wrong, sugar, it's a cute look, but I think if you're gonna go up against the Bat you should at least put some pants on."

Nigma tried to ignore the threatening tone in the other man's voice and straightened a little in his chair. "Where is this new suit?"

The Joker pulled back and shrugged, "At the tailor's. He's still workin' on it. Put on one of Johnny's suits for now. You're both skinny little wimps, anyways."

Dr. Crane bristled at the condescension in the Joker's voice and glared at the clown. The Joker smiled brightly back at him. "And while you two play dress up I'm gonna go out and get some more weapons and ammo. After that last car chase with the police we've run a little uh _dry_."

He opened the door with a flourish and gestured for Nigma and Crane to leave. Jonathan stood up, a hint of sourness just beneath his calm expression as he left the room. Eddie leaned heavily on his cane as he hobbled out.

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This was the seventh underworld sleaze he'd beaten for information today, but the first to provide valuable information. For that reason and that alone, the Messenger decided to spare his sorry life. He dropped the sobbing, whimpering man to the ground and walked out of the alleyway. The sinful of Gotham thought they were safe as long as the sun was up, but today the Messenger had taught them otherwise. The survivor would spread his tale and soon criminals would be shaking both day _and_ night, eager to repent for fear of the Messenger's wrath. The alley had been very dark, but stepping onto the street he noticed that the sun was setting. He tilted his face upwards and closed his eyes, embracing the last shreds of daylight for a moment before heading to his car.

His discussion with Dr. Yan had made it clear to him that he should not involve any of his other disciples in his attack on the Joker and Scarecrow's hideout. It had been foolish of him to ever think women could be fit for battle against men like them. He would continue to teach his disciples to defend themselves, but he would not allow them to join his fight. Women needed to be sheltered from the corrupt influences of mankind. Protected from those who would dare to mar their purity and chastity.

He got into his car and started heading towards the location the scumbag had given him. Oh the man hadn't known the exact address, of course, but he did know enough for the Messenger to make an educated guess. He sped across Gotham with surprising ease. Everyone seemed eager to get home tonight, hardly surprising considering there were at least three well-known murderers on the loose. There was no point trying to explain to the average citizen that he was out to save them, not harm them. The women and children of Gotham were victimized far too often for them to trust anyone. He could not blame them.

The Messenger slowed down as he approached the area he was looking for.

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Jonathan was absolutely _bloody sick_ of the clown. The moment the former doctor had left the kitchen he'd stormed downstairs to his lab, dumped any blankets left on the table on to the floor and began setting up his equipment again. If _Mr. Question Mark_ needed clothes he could ask the damn women. Jonathan clenched his teeth so tightly his jaw started to hurt. How _dare _that greasy maniac call Jonathan a skinny little wimp!

_Did you honestly expect him to respect you? The Joker sees us all as toys for his own amusement. _The Scarecrow's softly grating voice soothed Jonathan's mind. _Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet/ Eating her curds and whey…_

Dr. Crane continued the rhyme, "Along came a spider/ who sat down beside her…"

_And frightened Miss Muffet away._

Jonathan tilted his head to the side. In rare moments he could not only hear the Scarecrow but almost see him as well. When his fear toxin had first hit him and he'd been dragged screaming to Arkham, the Scarecrow had seemed as clear to him as any of the cops surrounding him. His scratching voice attempting to soothe Jonathan's fears with nursery rhymes, just as he had done when Jonathan was locked away in that godforsaken conservatory as a little boy. Sometimes the nursery rhymes were like a secret language that only the two of them understood the true meaning of.

Jonathan smiled thinly and responded to the Scarecrow's choice of rhyme. "That would be an ideal situation, wouldn't it?"

"It's nice to know that every time I think I've lost it, I can look to you and say 'well it could be worse.'"

Jonathan spun around, a growl in his throat. "What the hell do you want, Nigma?"

Edward held up his free hand, the other wrapped firmly around his new cane. "I came to get some clothes."

Jonathan let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "Are you serious? The first thing you do upon entering my lab is insult me and then immediately afterwards you ask me for a favor?"

Nigma winced, "Look I walked in and you were talking to yourself. At first I thought you were saying the Little Miss Muffet nursery rhyme, but instead of finishing it you paused and then said it was 'an ideal situation' or something like that. Can you really blame me for commenting?"

Crane glared at him and clenched his fists. "I am _not_ in the mood."

Edward gave a frustrated sigh, "Fine, but at least let grab my pants."

Jonathan said nothing but went back to working on his latest batch of fear toxin. The temptation to just throw some of it in Nigma's face was almost overwhelming. The other man seemed to realize this and kept as far away from Crane as possible. After a short search, Edward found his pants and sat in the furthest chair to put them on, the leg brace making it awkward. The room was thick with tension until the sound of glass shattering caused both men to look up to the top of the stairs. Jonathan grabbed his mask and swiftly loaded a canister of fear toxin into his shooter. Swift and silent as a ghost, Jonathan moved up the stairs.

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The Joker laughed wildly as he drove through the Gotham streets, the Batman hard on his heels. The only downside to being chased by Batman at the moment was that he'd started chasing the Joker _before_ the clown had gotten the chance to procure any weapons. Which was a pity, because trying to drive and shoot at the same time always leads to some good laughs. There were far too many cars getting in his way at the moment and the Bat was quickly gaining speed. On the bright side, he noticed the sidewalk was relatively empty and it wasn't like hitting a couple people would damage his car too badly. _Hurray for collateral damage!_ He grinned and jerked the wheel to the side, driving right up onto the sidewalk and laughing as an elderly couple jumped into a flower garden to get out of his way. What a way to damage perfectly nice flowers.

The Joker jerked the wheel again, this time turning onto a side street. They weren't far from the hideout now. He glanced into his side mirror. _'Objects in mirror are closer than they appear.'_ The Joker grinned; if the Batman got any closer he'd be sitting in Joker's lap. Strangely it didn't seem like an entirely unpleasant situation to him. He had a sneaking suspicion that Batman would feel otherwise. The Joker glanced at the mirror again. He was well aware of the multitude of fabulous toys that the Bat no doubt had attached to his little Bat-motorcycle, which also meant that he was well aware that at this point the Batman was _purposely_ not stopping him. Five minutes ago when the Joker was putting people in danger on the road, sidewalks and flower gardens the Batman was unable to stop him without risking accidentally killing someone. Yet, now that they were on a mostly deserted side street, the Batman was just letting him drive.

Since both men knew that the other one wasn't stupid, it could only mean that Batman was fully aware that the Joker _knew _Batman was letting him keep going so he could find his hideout. Which meant that Batman _knew_ the Joker had something up his sleeve.

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Persona and Harley had both jumped at the sound of something crashing through the front window. They had been in the bedroom going through clothes and chatting, when the sudden noise startled them. Harley quickly grabbed a knife the Joker had left on his nightstand and Persona grabbed a large vase from the dresser. Persona swiftly switched the lights off so they could at least partially hide in the shadows and stood next to the door. She raised the vase over her head and watched as the doorknob slowly turned…

Then stopped. She barely had enough time to realize that their opponent had decided to change tactics when the door burst open violently. She swung the vase down but to her surprise felt it get knocked out of her hands and crash to the floor. A giant shadow descended on her and she barely had time to dodge out of its grasp. Unfortunately, she was forced backwards, further away from the door. Her attacker moved to the side allowing light from the hallway to hit her in the face, causing her to blink.

"_Disciple_. I have been looking for you." The voice was deep, familiar and terrifying. "Where are the others?"

Persona looked up at him and tried to seem innocent. "They're out. They needed to get more weapons."

To her surprise he lunged at her, grabbing her by the throat and lifting her off the ground. A jolt of pain rushed through her as his gloved fingers unknowingly dug into the bruise on her neck. She kicked her legs wildly at him even as they dangled over a foot above the ground and her fingers clawed desperately at the hand around her neck. The light from the hall illuminated the full-face gas mask he was wearing.

"You are lying, woman. Have you forgotten your teacher, your _savior_ so quickly? Did you think you could betray the Messenger of God without retribution?"

"Put her down, bozo!" Harley jumped out of the darkness and stabbed her knife into his lower back. To the horror of both women the Messenger spun around and threw Persona at Harley, sending them both crashing painfully to the ground.

The Messenger reached behind him and pulled the knife out of his back, holding it up for them to see. "My armor is much too thick for such a puny knife to get through." Glass shattered as he tossed it out the window.

"Ah so the noble savior of mankind has at long last graced us with his presence." Jonathan's words dripped with condescending bile.

The Serial Killer spun around to face the chillingly calm Scarecrow standing in the doorway with his arm held out. The arm dropped when it saw the Serial Killer's gas mask. "Did you honestly think, Scarecrow, that I would be foolish enough to enter your lair unprepared?"

The Scarecrow shrugged, "You'd hardly be the first."

The Serial Killer started moving towards him. "You are a repulsive creature, Scarecrow, sadistic and evil. You have violated the purity of one of my most innocent disciples."

The Scarecrow removed his mask and gave a wicked smirk. "Oh it wasn't just her 'purity' I violated."

The Serial Killer roared in outrage and pulled a broadsword out from a sheath strapped over his cloak-like coat. Too angry for words he lunged out the door, chasing after the Scarecrow.

Persona and Harley both scrambled to their feet, chasing after the two men. Another loud crash seemed to rattle the whole house. Jonathan had knocked the china cabinet over in an attempt to hit the Messenger, but he was remarkably swift despite his large size. The broken furniture and shattered plates were all that stood between the two men. The sword swung up and in desperation Persona grabbed the television and threw it with all her strength at the Messenger's back. The impact caused the man to stagger and one hand let go of the sword. It was a small opening but Persona took her chance and jumped onto the killer's back. Harley was fast behind her, diving at the man's legs hoping to knock his feet out from under him.

Valid attempts. The impact of Harley's body against the backs of his knees caused his knees to bend but he swiftly kicked her hard in the chest knocking the air out of her. The Messenger had to drop the sword to get Persona off of him, who was desperately trying to take off his mask, but before Jonathan could grab the sword, Persona was air born again. The impact caused them to slam into the front door. Jonathan groaned underneath her and she quickly shifted her body so she put no weight on him. One look at his face told her he was struggling to stay conscious.

"This ends now, disciple."

She turned to look at the Messenger but kept her body in front of Jonathan to shield him. Her voice was desperate as she tried to reason with the Messenger. "What about his fear toxin? Don't you still want it?"

He shook his head, "I have learned my lesson with regards to making deals with the devil."

Persona looked down at Jonathan, "I won't get out of your way."

"Disciple…"

He was cut off by a new voice behind him. "Th-thank, thank God you're here…"

The Messenger swung around, sword raised, only to lower it at the pathetic sight of Edward Nashton. The man was hunched over and limping, his bare feet getting cut by the shards of glass on the floor and his arms wrapped around his stomach. He looked up at the Messenger and reached one shaking hand out. "Please, for th-the love of God, I…I need a doctor."

The Messenger moved towards the wounded man and reached out his arm to support him, his other hand tightly gripped around the sword. Beneath her Johnny was suddenly wide-awake, and with a quick glance she silently moved out of his way. Edward reached one of his hands up and placed it on the killer's shoulder for support. The Messenger leaned down slightly to make it easier for the wounded man…

Lightening fast his mask was removed, revealing long hair and a bearded face. The detective ducked to the floor. A fine mist surrounded the Messenger. He began wildly swinging his sword unable to tell his real enemies from imagined ones. He began backing up, further into the house. Edward had put the killer's mask over his face and Scarecrow had his, but Persona and Harley had been far enough away to not be affected. Harley was furthest into the room and the only one of them _behind_ the Messenger. She quickly ran to the basement door and opened it, the killer too possessed to hear her. Jonathan grabbed the broken TV and threw it at him again; it hit the killer's sword but knocked him off balance enough to cause him to stagger. Persona and Eddie quickly followed by throwing anything they could find at him, driving him backwards until he stumbled down the stairs.

Harley slammed the door shut.

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Scarecrow frowned as he and Persona dragged the couch in front of the door. "I thought he didn't hurt women."

A murderous look crossed Persona's face. "Oh he hurts women all the time, he just doesn't kill them. You see it's perfectly OK for _him_ to hurt a woman because 'it's to save her soul.'"

Harley scoffed, "The _really_ annoying part is that he's such a hypocrite. All his talk about how sacred women are actually _reinforces_ sexist stereotypes. We're weak, we need to be sheltered…phooey!"

Scarecrow smiled benevolently, "I like to think that I've shown equal contempt for both men and women…" The sound of screeching tires cut him off. "Damn it! Now what?"

Before any of them could go to the broken window to investigate, the Joker burst through the front door and grinned at their horrified faces. "We've got a visitor."

A loud crashing noise came from the basement.

The Scarecrow shook his head. "No we have two."


	19. Chapter 19

_Disclaimer: Batman still belongs to DC and Warner Bros._

_WARNING WARNING WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE!!!!!!!_

_A/N: After reading several very good critiques (thanks everyone!) of the last chapter and having re-read it myself multiple times, I decided to completely redo Chapter 18 and re-post it at the same time as putting up this chapter. Therefore this chapter will make ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE unless you re-read Ch.18. Sorry for any inconvenience, but I'm really trying to make this as close to professional as I can. Thanks again to everyone for their advice, support and reviews!_

**Serial Killer**

The Scarecrow glanced at the Joker's empty hands. "You didn't get any weapons?"

The Joker shrugged, "The Batman saw me and just couldn't wait to start playing. Besides he's a bit of a spoil sport when it comes to guns."

Nigma winced, "So the only weapons we have are Scarecrow's fear toxin and a couple knives? Against two guys in body armor, one of whom is carrying a sword. Fantastic."

There was a loud bang against the basement door and the sound of wood cracking. The Joker grinned, "The Killer Messenger carries a sword? I can't wait to meet this guy."

Another loud crack and the point of the Messenger's sword could just be seen before it was withdrawn for another swing. Nigma frowned at the door, "At this rate it won't be long until you get your wish."

Scarecrow moved towards the window. Persona grabbed his arm worriedly, "What are you doing?"

Scarecrow looked down at her. "Batman will break bones but he won't kill people. He'll be as eager to stop our sword carrying maniac as we are." He shouted towards the window, "Did you hear that Batman? The Serial Killer is here. That's why our window is broken. That's why we're not coming out to greet you. We're trying to keep him trapped in our basement as he tries to break the door down with a bloody sword."

Another crack and this time the killer created a large enough hole to shove an arm through, punching and tearing at the door. The sounds he made reminded Eddie of a rabid dog. "OK well if Batman doesn't kill people I'm just gonna head outside…"

To Nigma's surprise the Joker locked his arm around the smaller man's neck. "Oh no you don't. You're not slipping away that easily." The Joker pulled a knife out of one of his pockets. "The Batman always loves a hostage."

Suddenly the Batman was through the window, landing in a crouch but swiftly and gracefully rising to his feet. "Let him go, Joker."

Before the Joker could respond the top half of the basement door finally yielded to the Messenger's brutal assault with a spine-chilling crack. In a blur of motion the Messenger dove head first through the opening and rolled to his feet, raising his sword to swing at the closest person. The Joker looked slightly surprised at the sight but didn't let go of Nigma, who was now desperately trying to break the clown's grip. Just as the sword started to descend a soft whistle cut the air and the sword was knocked from the killer's hands, one of Batman's little metal bats clattering to the floor with it.

In a rage the killer lunged towards Batman punching wildly but with such speed that Batman struggled to dodge and block the blows. With Batman now distracted, Nigma caught sight of Scarecrow dragging Persona out the door and being followed eagerly by Harley. Eddie whispered to the Joker, "Now would be a good time to leave."

The Joker was staring at the battle with a look of pure bloodlust, but he let go of Nigma. "Go with Scarecrow," he whispered back, "I'll join ya later."

If the Joker wanted to stay and get his ass kicked, that was his choice, but Eddie was getting the hell out of here. He dashed quickly towards the door, keeping an eye on the two combatants while struggling to ignore the pain in his broken leg. Outside he saw Harley climbing into the van he vaguely recalled being used for his kidnapping. When she saw him alone her face fell.

"Where's Mistah J?"

Eddie quickly hobbled towards the van. "He wanted to stay and watch the fight."

Harley suddenly leaped out of the van, nearly knocking Eddie to the ground. "Oh no, Pudding!"

Persona moved to jump out of the passenger door, "Harley wait!"

Scarecrow yanked her back in. "We don't have time for this!"

"Agreed," Nigma jumped into the back seat. He looked sympathetically at Persona, "I'm sure she'll be alright."

The Scarecrow swung out of the driveway, tires screeching and floored it away from the house.

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Batman wasn't at all surprised when the Joker picked up the Serial Killer's sword, but he was surprised when the clown swung it at the killer instead of him. Clearly the killer was wearing body armor of his own because the impact caused him to merely wince in pain as though hit with a blunt object. The killer spun to face the Joker and this time the clown aimed for his head. To both Batman and the Joker's shock the killer was able to catch the sword in his hand. Of course, even his gloves would have armor. The killer slammed his free hand into the Joker's face, causing the clown to let go of the sword. Before the killer had a chance to turn the sword around, Batman tackled him with all his strength. The sword clattered out of the killer's hand once more and Batman quickly took out a pair of handcuffs. Just as he managed to force one on the killer's wrist the Joker tried to grab the sword again. Outraged, the killer managed to throw Batman off of him and grabbed the sword himself. The Joker barely had time to change directions, just missing getting stabbed through by the sword.

With the killer's focus on the Joker, Batman swiftly kicked the killer's legs out from under him. The killer managed to hold onto his sword, so Batman stomped his foot down on the other man's wrist. His hand convulsively opened and Batman grabbed the sword himself. Just as he stood back up he saw the Joker dashing out the door, laughing. He was about to go after the clown when the killer yanked his leg out from under him. Batman crashed onto the floor beside the maniac, who quickly tried to reach over the Dark Knight to take his sword back. Batman elbowed the other man in the face, throwing him off balance enough for Batman to get the upper hand. He pinned the killer onto his stomach on the floor, grabbed the wrist with the cuff and finally managed to wrestle the man's other hand into it. The screech of tires outside told him the Joker managed to escape.

Batman got up and grabbed hold of the couch, flipping it over onto the killer to keep the man pinned. The lunatic began to rant about being a messenger from God, how the evil of Gotham needed to be wiped out etc. etc. Batman ignored him as he contacted Commissioner Gordon.

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When Commissioner Gordon entered the house it looked like a bomb had gone off. Every piece of furniture was smashed. The carpet was covered in glass and blood. There were dents in the walls and a door to the basement that looked like it had been torn in half by a bear. In the middle of it all was a man pinned beneath a couch. Batman had warned him that the man had been ranting and raving, likely a result of the Scarecrow's fear toxin, but at the moment he just seemed exhausted.

Detective Bullock moved up beside the killer, gun aimed. "Arms where I can see them."

The killer actually sighed, "I'm afraid the Batman has tied my arms behind my back." The man's deep voice was surprisingly calm. "I cannot blame him; I was not myself. The Scarecrow had sprayed me with his toxin…I lost control."

Gordon stared down at him and lowered his gun. "Will you behave yourself when we move the couch?"

The killer nodded, "I have studied you for some time Commissioner, you are a man of integrity. I only hunt those who are corrupt and evil."

The idea of the man who had forced the Joker and Scarecrow to flee for their lives studying him was incredibly unsettling. However, Gordon trusted the man's claim that he would behave himself. The commissioner gestured for one of the other cops to help Bullock lift the couch off the man.

Bullock shook his head, "Wait a minute. I've got some questions I want to ask before we let this guy up." He glanced at Gordon, who nodded his approval. Bullock crouched down next to the killer. "Was Detective Nashton with them?"

The Killer's eyes narrowed. "From what I recall, in more ways than one."

Bullock grabbed him roughly by his long hair and yanked his face up painfully. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

The killer regarded him calmly, "It is difficult to remember exactly, but as I was about to land the killing blow against the Scarecrow, I heard the detective cry out for help behind me. Scarecrow appeared to be falling unconscious and both women were down, so I took the chance to assist the detective. As I reached out to steady him -he looked to be in quite poor health- he ripped off my mask, allowing the Scarecrow to jump up and spray me."

"LIAR!" Bullock raised his fist to strike the man, gun still in hand, but Gordon reached out quickly and grabbed his fist.

"Go outside, detective." Gordon said calmly, "Jenkins, Rivera and Chen will help me get the prisoner to the police van."

Bullock hesitated, clearly struggling with his anger, and then nodded his head. He let go of the killer and walked out the front door. Gordon nodded to two of the officers, who lifted the couch while the third helped Gordon pull the killer out from under it. The killer stood, towering over the others in the room. Yet he calmly allowed the police officers to escort him out of the house. Gordon watched as the three cops put him in the back of the police van then headed over to Bullock, who was standing on the driveway.

Gordon said nothing, waiting for Bullock to speak. The bigger man pointed down to the tire tracks on the driveway. "Looks like they really burned rubber getting out of here…"

Gordon sighed, "Bullock."

"I lost my temper chief, I'm sorry. I don't like people talking smack about my partner, especially not some blood thirsty psycho." Bullock clenched his fists. "Eddie's a good guy. Who does this jerk think he is accusing Eddie of…"

"Bullock, even if what the killer says is true it doesn't mean that Nashton did anything wrong. Judging from all the blood in that room, there's a good chance some serious injuries happened. I'm sure the detective did the only thing he could think of to keep everybody alive."

Bullock was quiet for a moment. "Why did he leave with the others?"

Gordon swallowed. "I don't know. They might not have given him a choice. It's also possible that even after all they had done to him he felt safer with them than he felt with a sword wielding maniac and the Batman."

The detective shook his head. "Eddie doesn't believe that Batman killed anyone."

Gordon gave him a humorless smirk, "That still leaves the sword wielding maniac." He shifted his feet, "I think you should read Nashton's file now, Bullock."

The detective sounded shocked, "Why?"

Gordon felt his shoulders slump and he started walking to his car. He hated the feeling of doubt clawing at his belly. "Just in case."

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Harley glanced over at her Mistah J and bit her lip as he drove in angry silence. He hadn't seemed at all surprised to see her revving up his car ready to help him escape, and she was certain that his lack of surprise was a sign of his trust in her. However, after she'd been driving for a bit he'd asked her where the others were heading and she had admitted that she didn't know. He had told her to pullover and get out of the car. Harley swallowed as she remembered how he'd angrily punched her in the face, knocking her to the ground and kicking her body until she was a sobbing mess.

She was so lucky he didn't leave her.

Of course, he'd be angry with her after she'd made such an incredibly stupid mistake. Mistah J had expected her to find out where the others were going and instead she'd completely failed him. Now Persona, Johnny and Eddie were all by themselves without Mistah J to protect them and it was all her fault. She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Mistah J glanced at her as he drove along the dark road. "OK Harley-girl, I'm gonna give ya one last chance to make yourself useful."

Harley looked up at him hopefully, "Anything at all Mistah J!"

"Tell me absolutely everything you've ever heard Johnny say he likes."

She looked confused but after he glared at her in annoyance she didn't dare question him. "Well he didn't actually say it, but I'm sure he likes Persona."

The Joker rolled his eyes and smacked his lips in annoyance. "She's with him you little idiot! I'm trying to think where he might go to hide."

His words stung her. She just hated failing him. Harley glanced out the window and tried to think. Johnny rarely talked to her about anything, even when he was being what passed for him as social. Most of the time he was downstairs with his chemicals. The chemicals he'd been forced to abandon…

"Maybe a lab or chemical factory?" She wanted so desperately to be useful.

The Joker seemed to think about it than shook his head. "Too dangerous. There aren't a lot of abandoned factories in Gotham, especially of the uh, chemical variety. The Batman's sure to keep an eye on them and Johnny would know that."

Harley grabbed one of her pigtails and started twirling it nervously. She wished she hadn't lost her hat, she felt so plain and boring next to Mistah J without it. "I'm sorry Mistah J," she whispered softly, "I don't know."

She watched as the Joker clenched his jaw for a moment, and then relaxed a bit. "Forget it. I've got another hideout we can head for." He jerked the wheel violently and did a U-turn. "They'll pop up sooner or later."


	20. Chapter 20

_Disclaimer: Batman still belongs to DC and Warner Bros. _

_A/N: Sorry for the long wait folks. As always, your reviews mean a lot to me, Johnny, Eddie, Harley and Persona. Admittedly, Batman, the Messenger and Commissioner Gordon think you're all sick, twisted people for enjoying the goings on of Gotham's criminal world. The Joker says that's just all the more reason to review, "Take that Batman! Hahahahaheeheehee!!!"_

Serial Killer

Detective Bullock stared down at Edward Nashton's police file folder. He had read every word of it, some parts multiple times. The Joker had stolen the original and while Bullock had been confused why at the time, he understood now. The Joker wanted to ruin Eddie's efforts at starting over and escaping his dark past. If the Serial Killer was telling the truth, Eddie's criminal side was beginning to show again.

Bullock shook his head. It was no use worrying about whether the Joker and Scarecrow had driven Eddie back off the deep end, all Bullock could do was look for his partner…and hope there was some of his friend still left in the man he found.

Jonathan Crane had been driving for what felt like days but was closer to a couple hours. The quiet of the countryside at night -they'd escaped the borders of Gotham nearly an hour ago- had lulled Persona to sleep. Edward Nigma was still awake, but was remaining surprisingly quiet. Despite the other man's seemingly calm behavior, Jonathan kept an eye on him in the rearview mirror. It was strange how all of them referred to him as 'Nigma' now, as if he'd never been Detective Nashton at all. It was a testament to the Joker's psychological prowess how quickly he'd been able to make the detective question his own mind. It was one thing to twist the mind and bend the will of a bored, attention starved young woman like Harleen Quinzel. Yet the Joker had also managed to rope Jonathan, Persona, Nashton/Nigma and Harley along all at the same time.

_The Joker is gone now, _Scarecrow whispered, _you're aware he made you one of his puppets, so why are we still playing his game?_

Jonathan frowned. He almost responded out loud before quickly closing his mouth. _We both know that if anyone could escape Batman and the Messenger it would be the Joker. Besides, all of them are after us, so regardless of who won the battle, it's safer to be in a group._

The Scarecrow gave a disgusted scoff. _What good is Nigma in his condition? The Messenger knows, or at least thinks he knows, that Nashton is a traitor…_

Jonathan cut him off in annoyance. _The Joker and Batman both want Nigma alive. The Joker will be pleased with us that we looked after him and Batman will put rescuing Nigma ahead of capturing us. _

Scarecrow chuckled. _And with all three enemies he can be used as a human shield. _

Jonathan smirked, "Precisely."

"Precisely, what?"

Jonathan glanced at the rearview mirror to see Nigma staring at him suspiciously. He couldn't stop the smirk from turning into a full, creepy grin. "I was just thinking of something amusing."

Edward gritted his teeth. "_Fine_. I'm too tired to give a damn." He paused for a moment. "But could you at least turn the heat up a notch? It's freezing in here without a shirt."

Jonathan shrugged, "There should still be a bag of clothes behind the backseat. I always keep some around in case of emergencies."

Edward started digging around awkwardly behind the back seat. "Emergencies like a cape wearing vigilante chasing you and you need a disguise to get away?"

He shrugged, "It'd have to be a _very _good disguise to fool Batman. The clothes are more for tricking the lesser intellects of Gotham into not recognizing me."

"Lesser intellects like the police?"

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, "The police were no match for Ra's al Ghul, myself or the Joker. Hell, they couldn't even compete with ordinary mobsters like Falcone. Make no mistake, this city would've been in ashes if it weren't for Batman."

For once there seemed to be no annoyance or irritation in Edward's body language. He seemed genuinely interested in what Jonathan had to say. "Aside from Batman, has no one on the side of the law impressed you?"

Jonathan was quiet for a moment, seriously considering the question. "I didn't really pay attention until the crime families started offering me bribes to claim their captured men were insane. Shortly after that I was contacted by Ra's al Ghul and…"

Edward cut him off. "That's the second time you've mentioned that guy's name. If he's such an important criminal why haven't I heard of him?"

Jonathan shrugged. "As far as I know, the police never knew about him. He was the leader of an international terrorist organization called the League of Shadows. According to him, the League had been around since at least the height of Rome… Anyways, it was their belief that the only way to rid the world of crime was to make an example of the largest, most corrupt city in the world. Ra's Al Ghul approached me with the idea of developing my fear research and the toxins I was working on, into a weapon with which he could hold Gotham City ransom. Of course, I figured out quite quickly that he had no intention of actually ransoming the city and that his plan was to simply destroy it."

Edward cocked his head to the side curiously, "Why did you go along with it if you knew he was lying?"

Jonathan actually laughed. "Are you kidding? Every member of the League of Shadows is a trained killer. We're talking top-level assassins. Even for someone with my skills and resources it would be foolish to betray the League. Besides, it would've been a remarkable way to test the full power of my fear toxin. The things I could've learned…"

Edward shifted uncomfortably. "OK so back to my original question?"

Jonathan shrugged again. "The only person who stood up to me _before_ Batman was the Assistant D.A. Rachel Dawes. At first I informed Falcone that she could be trouble. I have no doubt the men he sent to kill her ended up caught by Batman. I later gave her a lethal dose of fear toxin, but Batman saved her from that, too. Somehow, he came up with an antidote."

"Rachel Dawes…I remember hearing about her. Murdered the same night Harvey Dent was mutilated. They say he was murdered by Batman a few days later."

Jonathan shook his head in disgust. "_They _are morons. Harvey Dent went out of his way to protect Batman's secret identity. Batman, Harvey Dent and Commissioner Gordon were allies. Batman clearly had a thing for Dawes, Joker mentioned he noticed it too, but he would've never murdered Dent over it. That would go against everything Batman believes in."

Nigma leaned forward, "So who do you think killed Harvey Dent?"

A small, conspiratorial smile crept onto Jonathan's face. "There are rumors…within the walls of Arkham…that Harvey Dent isn't dead at all."

Edward's jaw dropped open, then he quickly shook his head. "That's ridiculous! Why would the police try to trick the public into thinking Dent was dead? Besides, Arkham's a mad house, you can't trust a rumor from there."

"That depends if the rumor comes from a patient or a staff member." Jonathan turned the car onto a side road. A few more minutes and they'd be at their destination.

Edward shook his head numbly. "I don't understand…why?"

_Jonathan, _Scarecrow whispered, _this information could damage him far worse than even the Joker's words about his past. The knowledge that the Gotham police may be willing to lock a man away for life without a trial…a man whose fate seems eerily similar to our detective friend's._

Jonathan glanced at Edward's face. He knew the detective was smart enough to figure it out on his own. The silence seemed to stretch out for an eternity before Nigma answered his own question. He almost sounded nauseas.

"In his short time as District Attorney, Harvey Dent helped Batman and Commissioner Gordon bring Gotham's organized crime to its knees." He licked his lips nervously before continuing. "If Harvey Dent's public image was damaged in any way, all that work would be jeopardized…Joker knew that Dent was the most vulnerable of the three. He had the most heroic public image, he was the most loved and respected…"

Jonathan nodded encouragingly. "He had the farthest to fall."

"So the Joker set him up. He knew Batman would go to rescue Dawes over Dent because the Joker knew Batman had feelings for her. He knew Batman would succeed and the police would fail, so he lied to Batman about where he put them. Rachel died. Dent was horrifically scarred. He blamed Batman and Gordon for failing him…" Nigma's eyes went wide. "Dent snapped! They say he disappeared after Joker blew up the hospital, but he escaped. While Joker kept the majority of cops distracted, Dent went off to have his revenge on the people he felt betrayed him…and when Batman and the Commissioner finally caught him they somehow faked his death to protect his final case."

The motel's sign was visible on the horizon, but Jonathan slowed the van so he could finish the conversation with Nigma. Jonathan glanced at him again and gave him a hint. "If Dent was conscious it would've been next to impossible to cover up his existence. However, a nice, severe head wound combined with the destruction of Gotham's largest hospital…"

Edward's expression was intense with thought. "Arkham's infirmary was the closest medical center they could get to. Gordon orders the ambulance to take Dent there, possibly with the excuse that he doesn't want Dent's would-be assassin to have a chance at him while in transit. Once he's actually in Arkham's infirmary a very small group of selected staff, people Gordon himself knows and trusts, are told the truth. They pronounce Harvey Dent dead. When he wakes up…"

"He's in a coma."

"That's the rumor?"

Jonathan smirked. "From the moment that rumor first hit my ears I went to investigate. Arkham has many unused rooms…many _isolated_ unused rooms. I of all people know that. It took time, but I found him. Read his medical charts. Joker was ecstatic when he heard his 'good buddy Harvey' was still alive."

Edward opened and closed his mouth several times before he could get sound to come out. "If Harvey wakes up won't he come after you and Joker? Joker may have been the one to murder Rachel Dawes, but surely she would've told him about the time you tried to kill her."

Jonathan maneuvered the van into the motel's parking lot. "I suppose he'd be angry at me, but it would be easy enough to deter him."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "How do you figure?"

Jonathan didn't answer until he'd finished parking the van. Then he turned to look Edward in the eyes. "The Joker used her as bait for Batman and Harvey Dent. Batman saw her as a damsel in distress. The mob bosses saw her as some stupid, nosy girl. _I _was the only one who actually respected her as a threat in her own right. She and I may have hated each other, but it was a hate based on grudging respect."

Edward smirked. "Grudging respect and maybe a little something else?"

Jonathan shook his head. "No. While I respected her drive and intelligence, she simply wasn't my type. I don't deny that she was nice to look at but…"

"Ah, even if you weren't on different sides of the law, your personalities would've clashed?"

This time it was Jonathan's turn to smirk. "Well that and she was too tall for my tastes."

Edward actually laughed and Jonathan chuckled with him. Persona mumbled something and shifted in her seat. Jonathan put a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her. "We're here."

She lifted her head groggily, "Wuzza?"

"We're at the motel. It's the type of place where they won't ask questions and we'll be able to stay for a couple days until we can figure out our next move."

Edward looked at him. "What about the van? Batman or the police might recognize it."

"Once we're settled in I'll call someone to dispose of it and bring us a new vehicle. I still have most of my contacts from before I was sent to Arkham."

Persona looked at Edward with her head tilted to the side. "You don't see yourself as one of them anymore."

Jonathan gave her a warning look, but her eyes were on Edward. The other man shrugged, "Jonathan and I talked about a lot of things while you were asleep."

She looked at Jonathan and he relaxed when he realized that there was no judgment, only curiosity in her expression. He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. "We'll explain tomorrow."

The old man behind the front desk sent Persona a lecherous look that made her skin crawl. He and Jonathan spoke too quietly for her to hear from where she and Edward were standing with the bags, but she got the impression she wouldn't like what he was saying.

Persona nudged Edward. "Crane said these people weren't going to ask any questions; why is it taking so long to figure out the rooms?"

Edward frowned. "I'm guessing he's trying to get a room with two beds. He doesn't trust me enough to let me out of his sight."

"But there's three of us. Am I going to be stuck on the floor?"

"Not if Johnny has anything to say about it."

Persona crossed her arms in annoyance. "Don't be ridiculous. Jonathan knows full well that I'm not ready to sleep with him and certainly not with another man in the room!" Her eyes widened in horror. "Oh God, is that why the creepy desk guy is looking at me like that? He thinks we're going to…do…things?"

Edward stifled a chuckle by pretending to cough. "I imagine in a place like this that would be pretty typical."

"Eww!" Persona wrapped her arms around herself protectively.

"I'm flattered."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't mean you. I mean, the whole idea. God, if the Messenger thought for even a moment that I'd do something like that…"

Edward started snickering. "What? He'd dump you in Holy water?"

"It's not funny, Edward. He'd kill us."

"Well at least we're on a first name basis. Anyways, in case you haven't noticed he's already trying to kill us. He can't exactly kill us deader."

Before she could come up with a suitably snippy remark Jonathan walked over carrying a pair of keys. "I called my contact about the van, we'll have a new vehicle in the morning. As for the rooms they don't have any with two beds, so Nigma will have his own room, right across from ours." Jonathan held out the key to Edward. "But so help me, Nigma, if you try to escape…"

Edward held up his hands defensively, "I know, I know. You'll peel off my skin and boil my eyeballs. I get it."

Jonathan gave a suspiciously friendly smile. "I'd start with your eyeballs, then you wouldn't know where the knife would be next. Now, follow me." Persona didn't move and Jonathan gave a frustrated sigh. He knew why she was hesitating. "For God's sake, Persona, I'm exhausted. I will happily pass out on the bed in all my clothes."

She felt herself relax a bit. "OK."

They walked down a narrow hallway that smelled like booze and stale cigarette smoke. Persona noticed that Edward was leaning heavily on his cane as he walked, attempting to keep the pressure off his broken leg. Jonathan moved stiffly too, though he was clearly trying to hide it, even insisting on carrying the bags by himself. Her own aches and pains from the fight were outweighed by her exhaustion. Of course, she'd probably feel them tenfold when she woke up in the morning.

Edward stopped at his door and glanced at her with genuine concern. "You sure you're OK?"

She tried to answer, but Johnny's annoyed voice beat her to it. "She'll be fine."

Edward glared at him. "I'm not asking you." He turned back to her. "Seriously, if you're not comfortable…"

Persona smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "Thanks, Edward. I'll be fine, but if it makes you feel better, if he tries anything I give you my blessing to beat him with your cane."

Edward gave her a small smirk, but the troubled look didn't leave his eyes. He glanced up at Jonathan and for a moment she could almost feel the tension between them. She sighed. When she had woken up in the van it had almost seemed like they were getting along, but now they seemed just as bad as ever. Persona touched Jonathan's wrist to subtly catch his attention.

"The sooner the doors are open, the sooner we can all go to sleep."

The glaring contest broken, both men turned away from each other and began unlocking the doors. Jonathan opened his door first and held it open for Persona.

She glanced back. "Goodnight, Eddie."

He opened his door and looked from her to Jonathan and back to her. She couldn't read the expression on his face, but she thought she heard a note of…bitterness in his voice. "Goodnight."

Edward's door closed and she turned back to look at Jonathan, silently holding his door open for her. Persona stepped through the door and slumped onto the bed. She pulled off her shoes as she watched Jonathan drop the bags and lock the door. He didn't meet her eyes as he went to the other side of the bed and began taking off his shoes.

Jonathan kept his back to her as he spoke as if totally engrossed in the act of untying his shoes. "What were you and Nigma talking about while I was at the front desk?"

Persona lay back on the bed and turned her head towards him. "The creepy man behind the desk. I didn't like the way he kept looking at me."

Jonathan turned to look down at her. "What did Nigma say that made you act like I was about to rape you in the lobby?"

She turned onto her side facing away from him. "He didn't really say anything about you. He just explained why the old guy was looking at me like that. It made me uncomfortable…given what you know about me, is that really unexpected?"

He silently got up and flicked off the lights. She felt the bed shift as he lay down on his back next to her. For a long moment there was silence. The room was drafty and while Persona didn't really trust the cleanliness of the sheets, she didn't want to freeze either. "Johnny, are you still awake?"

"Yes."

"I'm cold, do you wanna get under the covers?"

The bed shifted as Jonathan moved so she could slip under the sheets, then he followed suit. Persona curled into a ball to try to warm up. The room was too dark for her to see Jonathan but she could tell he was as far from her as the bed would allow.

"Are you still cold?"

She nodded, realized he couldn't see it and answered. "Yeah…"

Jonathan said nothing but the bed shifted and she suddenly felt his body pressing against the back of hers. One of his arms and one of his legs moved over her, to pull her more deeply into the embrace. His body heat seemed to flow into her. "Better?"

Persona closed her eyes and sighed, "Mm hmm."

But even as she drifted off to sleep, she couldn't help feeling sorry for Edward, alone in his bed.


	21. Chapter 21

_Disclaimer: Batman = DC + Warner Bros._

_A/N: There are some adult situations in this one, though nothing that's more explicit than some of the previous chapters. Reviews are very appreciated!!!!_

Serial Killer

Bruce Wayne glared at his morning paper in frustration. The Serial Killer or 'Messenger', as he liked to call himself, was finally in police custody, but the Joker and Scarecrow had both gotten away. It was little consolation that the two of them were separated. It would only be a matter of time until they met up and joined forces again. Perhaps worse was that the Scarecrow and his unidentified assistant had forced Detective Nashton to go with them, or at least he _hoped_ the detective was forced. Bruce felt a wave of guilt. Commissioner Gordon had told him that the Messenger had accused Nashton of helping the criminals. Regardless of whether that was true or not, Bruce knew it was awful of him to hope that the detective was in danger.

"Have your eggs somehow offended you, Sir?" Alfred's ever-calm voice dragged Bruce out of his thoughts.

He sighed, "No, Alfred. Last night wasn't half as productive as it should've been. The Joker, Scarecrow, Dr. Quinzel and a woman whose _identity_ I haven't even found yet are all still on the loose. The Messenger AKA the serial killer of fellow criminals has been caught, but he's accusing Detective Nashton of helping the criminals and possibly being driven insane himself."

Alfred looked sympathetically down at Bruce. "A possibility that no doubt brings to mind the fall of Mr. Dent."

Bruce slammed his fist down on the table. "As soon as I found out about Nashton's past I should've told Gordon to transfer him back to Bolton. As tempting as having someone that brilliant on Gotham's police force was, the man's past and mental instabilities made him an even more tempting target for the Joker."

"May I voice another possibility, sir?" Alfred inquired softly.

Bruce looked up, a glint of hope in his eyes. "Of course."

"The detective has been exposed to those lunatics on a completely different level than we have. It is unfair of us to judge his behavior when we do not know what he has witnessed. Perhaps when faced with the decision to side with the Scarecrow or the Messenger, he genuinely felt that the Scarecrow was the lesser of two evils. There's also the matter of the two women in the group…"

Bruce cut him off, "He might've felt it would be easier to protect them or possibly reason with them if he pretended to be on their side?"

Alfred gave a small smile, "Actually, sir, I was thinking along more personal lines, at least from the detective's stand point."

Bruce allowed the corner of his lip to twitch before frowning again. "Quinzel came back for the Joker while Nashton and our mystery woman went with the Scarecrow. It would be much easier to deduce why Nashton went with them if we knew the identity of the other woman and what her relationship to Scarecrow is."

Alfred thought for a moment. "Did you not say earlier that the commissioner mentioned the Messenger referring to the woman as one of his 'disciples'?"

Bruce nodded slowly, "Yes, but it must've been a slip. He staunchly refuses to elaborate any further on any of his disciples and is particularly guarded with reference to her."

"Perhaps he is feeling scorned that she seemingly abandoned him?"

Bruce shook his head. "Unlikely. From what Gordon told me the man is convinced he is some kind of divine messenger from God, obsessed with protecting the purity and virtue of women, in particular his disciples. I believe such a man would see harboring romantic feelings for any of the women he considers under his protection as an unforgivable sin."

Alfred tilted his head to the side, "If that is the case, and she is no longer one of his followers, is it not likely that he will attempt to murder her as he has so many other criminals? It would certainly explain his refusal to discuss her."

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment then opened them suddenly. "No. No it's guilt. From what little information he's given us, I'm certain that it was he who orchestrated her infiltration of Arkham and unwittingly caused her downfall. He underestimated Dr. Crane's psychiatric and manipulative abilities which caused her to turn sides."

Alfred nodded. "Perhaps Detective Nashton deduced this as well and realized that if he sided with the Messenger it would've lead to the Scarecrow's murder."

Bruce let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Nashton has more reason than anyone to want Scarecrow dead. Yet he helped save him…the commissioner and I read Nashton's actions completely wrong. Saving Scarecrow and the others from the Messenger wasn't a sign of him going bad, it was a sign that he's holding on to good…"

If Alfred disagreed with his employer's sudden grasp at hope, he gave no sign of it.

The heavy drapes of the hotel room blocked out most of the sunlight, leaving the room almost as dark as it was when they'd arrived. Persona shifted under the covers until she could peer over Jonathan's shoulder at the clock on the nightstand. 9:00 A.M. On a normal day it would be a relatively late time to wake up, but given how late they had arrived at the motel they'd barely had any time to sleep at all. Part of her wanted very badly to lie back down and sleep the rest of the day away. The little sleep she had gotten had been restless, punctuated by nightmares fueled with guilt and shame. However, the nightmares that had haunted her during the night were the very reason she couldn't bring herself to attempt going back to sleep.

Persona looked down at Jonathan. In contrast to her, he looked more peaceful than she had ever seen him. His face looked boyish and sweet, his expression untroubled, calm and perhaps even a bit happy. If this was the real Jonathan Crane, she'd happily kiss his cheek and pull him into her arms, but it wasn't. A wave of shame washed over her and she felt her stomach churn. She slipped silently out of his arms and headed to the washroom. She quietly switched on the light, which seemed painfully bright, and closed the door. Trance-like she took care of her most pressing needs then washed her hands and finally looked up. The woman in the mirror looked as awful as Persona felt. The dark circles under her eyes seemed almost like bruises and her eyes themselves were red and puffy from the tears she'd shed during her dreams. Her skin was so pale and sickly that she reminded herself of the walking dead…

Persona shook her head violently, aware of the uselessness of the gesture. The dreams haunted her because they were _real_. The overwhelming sense of shame and self-hatred was well deserved. She had betrayed the Messenger, a man she owed her life to, for what? She had slept with Dr. Crane, the Scarecrow, a madman guilty of attempting to poison an entire city with hallucinatory drugs. Of course, they had kept their clothes on, but she had still allowed him to hold her and worse, she took comfort from his embrace. The memory caused her skin to feel like it was crawling with a thousand little demons, mocking her unworthiness, her weakness. She was unclean. With unsteady hands she began peeling off her clothing, unable to even meet her own gaze in the mirror. Bruises littered her body, newer, dark ones from her fight with the Messenger and lighter, healing ones from her struggles with Jonathan. For the first time, she noticed small bruises circling one of her breasts. A shock of recognition hit her and she felt dizzy. She pressed her fingers gently against the marks to confirm her suspicion. At some point during the night Jonathan had grabbed her breast, which to her embarrassment was small enough to fit completely in his hand, and squeezed hard enough to bruise. At the time the pain had fit so well into her nightmare that it didn't even wake her.

Numbly she stepped into the shower and turned it on. The first spray that hit her was icy cold, but it soon turned hot enough to scald. Persona barely adjusted the tap, a part of her hoping to scald off the sins that dirtied her bruised flesh. She scrubbed at her skin with the cheap motel soap, trying to distract her troubled mind with physical exertion. It was no use. Her thoughts drifted to her dreams and nightmares, to the people whose trust she had betrayed and whose hearts she no doubt wounded. What of Dr. Yan? Though it was the Messenger who saved her life, it was Dr. Yan who had nursed her back to health, taught her to function in the world even without her memory. How much pain had Persona caused that kind woman by turning her back on their cause? What about the other women of the cult, whom she knew so little about, yet whom she had sparred with, learned with and despite everything, bonded with? What about poor Detective Nashton? Not only had she not lifted a finger to stop the torture and suffering of the man, she had helped break the man's spirit too. From little things like referring to him as Nigma, to far worse things…she felt a choked sob escape her throat as she remembered the concerned look on his face as she had turned her back on him, choosing to spend the night instead with one of the men who had so brutally tortured him. She had assumed that Nashton's interest in her was a ruse, a way to subtly get back at Jonathan for all the terrible things he had done…but that look Edward had given her…the worry, dread, hurt and concern so clearly written on his face…Of all the thoughts that haunted her dreams, it was that look that stung the worst.

Loud knocking suddenly crashed in on her thoughts and she gasped, quickly turning off the shower and grabbing one of the motel's worn but clean towels. Swiftly wrapping it around herself she stepped out of the shower stall.

"Will you hurry up in there? You're not the only one who needs the facilities."

Jonathan's cranky voice cut through her despair, igniting the small part of her that had the strength to be angry. She unlocked the door and stepped out clutching at the top of the towel wrapped around her body.

"It's all yours, Jonathan." She tried to sound as annoyed as he had, but she quickly realized he wasn't paying attention to what she was saying...or her face for that matter.

"What would you do if I grabbed the towel?" His voice was deeper and huskier than usual. The way it had been when he…she swallowed, pushing back the thought.

"I thought you had to use the facilities?" Persona felt a hint of pride at the acid she heard in her voice.

He took a step closer and finally looked into her eyes, a strange smile on his face. "Your skin is so flushed, so pink. Given the way you tossed and turned last night, I doubt it's because you're well rested." His cold eyes seemed to pierce right through her false confidence. "Did scalding your skin manage to wash your guilt away?"

"Back off, Johnny. You said you'd leave me alone last night."

His face grew serious. "And I kept my word. Last night I was a perfect gentleman." He swiftly took two more steps, his body suddenly pressing against hers. A full grin spread across his face. "But today is another day."

She kept one hand firmly clasped on the towel and used her other hand to try pushing him away. He grabbed her wrist and pinned it behind her back then forced her against the wall, his free hand sliding between their bodies, moving towards the hand that held her towel. Persona vaguely remembered Harley's words about how the Joker abused her as a way of showing he cared…and something inside Persona snapped.

_FUCK THAT._

Jonathan's mouth dropped open and he let out a startled, gasping cry as Persona slammed her knee between his legs with all her strength. He stumbled backwards, hands moving to protect his wounded groin. He glared up at her, his face a mask of rage, but she met his eyes evenly. "I said back off and I meant it, _Crane_."

She was surprised at the look of genuine hurt, anger and confusion on his face. He sank to the floor, still curled in on himself and looked away from her. "I don't understand. You chose _me_ last night." He looked up at her, most of the anger now gone. "You let _me_ hold you."

Persona sighed and ran her free hand through her wet hair. Jonathan was abusive, cruel, selfish and insane. But he was also abused, lonely, traumatized and well, insane. As brilliantly as Jonathan understood the human mind, as easily as he could manipulate the emotions of others and as deadly as his knowledge was, it was all smoke and mirrors…a desperate, mad attempt to disguise his own broken, shriveled heart. Besides, when she really thought about it, Jonathan made a solid point: she had chosen him. It was only natural that he would assume it was because she wanted to _be_ with him, especially given the fact that they had kissed before. Even though he had hinted that he knew she hadn't slept well, there was no way he could've known just how badly her dreams and nightmares had shaken her.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan, but I can't. You said yourself that you knew I didn't sleep well and you made it damn clear that you understood, at least a bit, the reason. So why did you insist on trying to push me? Was it some kind of test?" She had managed to keep her voice steady and calm while she spoke, searching his eyes for an answer.

Jonathan stared back; the veneer of calm on his face cracking with the effort to reign in the war of emotions she could see just beneath it. He finally broke his gaze away, took a deep breath and collected himself. He stood with careful dignity, smoothing his rumpled clothing as best he could.

When he met her eyes again, he was his usual icy self. When he spoke it was like he was reciting an article from the encyclopedia. "Last night I slept quite peacefully for most of the night, but there was one point when I woke up to the sound of you crying. I stroked the tears from your face and tried to say comforting things. Eventually you seemed to calm down and I fell back asleep, confident that I had the power to soothe you. I don't remember you actually getting out of bed this morning, but eventually I noticed the chill that the loss of your body heat created and I woke to the sound of the shower going. Do you have any idea how long you were in there? Well past the point where I could tell myself it was just because you were tired from the long day yesterday or sore from the fight with the Messenger and long drive here. At last I got up and moved to the door. When I pressed my ear against it to listen I was shocked at how warm the door was. It's amazing you didn't pass out from the heat or burn your skin. That's when all my illusions about my success last night came crashing down. Is it any wonder that I reacted with anger?"

There was silence for a long time. Persona sighed again. "So what should we do?"

"You want me to somehow change in a way that will make you feel less guilty about betraying the Messenger and/or choosing me over Nigma. I want you to drop your towel and let me make you _mine_. Neither of us can truly do what the other wants, so we're stuck." Jonathan reached over to the nightstand and picked up his glasses, absent-mindedly cleaning them with his shirt.

Persona felt a hint of relief. "Then you think we should just give up? Try to be friends?"

He let out an almost startled sounding laugh. "Of course! I'll just toss my lov- lust out the window and we can be bestest friends."

"Your sarcasm is dually noted." She turned and headed back into the bathroom.

"Has my presence corrupted your purity again? Do you need another shower so soon?" The amused sarcasm had turned into something almost painful to listen to.

Persona didn't turn around. "No, Jonathan. I was just going to get dressed. I only have the one set of clothing, unless you're willing to let me borrow some of yours."

"Well if you don't mind it having touched my polluted, sinful skin before…"

She still didn't turn around. "Never mind." The washroom door closed quietly behind her.

The police commissioner had questioned him at length about his beliefs, about his disciples and about the disciple who had betrayed him. The Messenger had slipped once or twice, but only very small, insignificant pieces of information. Nothing that would give away the identities of his devoted followers. Eventually the police officers had gotten frustrated and abandoned their attempts to question him today and at last he had some peace. He was perfectly confident that Dr. Yan would orchestrate an escape for him and it was only a matter of being patient and waiting for the moment to arrive. The Messenger allowed his thoughts to stray to the interrogation he'd faced today. Detective Bullock had been shaking with pent up frustration and anger. There were even a few moments where the Messenger had fully expected the man to strike him. In truth, however, he could hardly blame the detective. Losing his partner so soon, and to such awful and unscrupulous monsters…The Messenger had felt a pang of guilt for accusing Nashton of treachery when he was caught. After a night of thinking on it, he realized that it was possible Nashton had been doing what he thought best to try to protect the women. He had mentioned as much to Bullock when the other man had started his interrogation. Apparently, the same thought hadn't occurred to the exhausted detective and it seemed to give the man some small form of comfort.

Unfortunately, the seeming truce had been broken when the Messenger had misunderstood Bullock's concerns and had tried to comfort him by pointing out that the Scarecrow had likely murdered Nashton when he realized the detective was only pretending to help. Of course, he didn't think his disciple, corrupted though she might be, would just stand by and allow a good man to be murdered, so the Scarecrow had probably killed them both at once. He found such thoughts comforting, for it meant that both his disciple and Nashton would die redeemed. Apparently, Bullock had not shared his opinion. Instead, he had misinterpreted it as a threat towards Nashton's life and had become very upset. The commissioner himself had to be summoned to calm Detective Bullock down and end the interrogation.

The detective's anger had not left the Messenger unmoved. He too felt anger. Once again he had failed to bring his lost disciple back into the safety of his fold and worse still, the fear toxin he'd been exposed to had caused him to act out violently towards both her and the clown woman. A chill went through him as he thought about how close he'd come to almost killing two very lost, helpless women. Once the Scarecrow and Joker had been caught and killed for their heinous crimes, he would have to punish himself severely for such a dangerous loss of control.


	22. Chapter 22

_Disclaimer: Batman = DC + Warner Bros._

_A/N: My computer's default language has been changed to Canadian English. It's not a whole lot different from American English, mostly just a few extra letters here and there. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed!!! It really does help me develop the story when you share your thoughts._

Serial Killer

Eddie glared at the T.V. in annoyance. He had woken up from his uncomfortable, confusing and over-all unpleasant dreams with an intense desire to act like a proper detective and go over to the door across from his, bang on it loudly, beat Johnny with his cane and rescue the damsel in distress. What stopped him? The thought of walking in on them happily banging away and him making an ass out of himself, that's what. So instead he'd turned on the T.V. to distract himself, only to discover every news channel discussing the Messenger's arrest and everyone else's escape.

What made him run off?

The Messenger had clearly intended to help him and showed genuine concern for his well-being before Edward had ripped off his saviour's mask. For that matter, why hadn't he stayed to help Batman? Eddie was well aware that the Dark Knight had been framed even before Jonathan's revelation about Harvey Dent. Eddie sighed, rubbed his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair. It wasn't really a riddle. He knew full well why he went with the others; he just didn't want to admit it to himself.

"Riddle me this, Nigma…" he sighed softly.

A sudden knock on the door broke him out of his thoughts. "Eddie, are you decent?"

He couldn't help chuckling at Persona's wording as he got up and opened the door, "Well, that kinda depends how loose your definition is…"

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms defensively. "We need to talk."

The smile dropped off his face and he ushered her in, swiftly shutting the door. "Where's Crane?"

"In the shower…" she slumped into the room's only chair and stared at her feet.

"Let me guess, before he got in the shower the two of you had a fight?"

She nodded, "I woke up before he did and took a shower…" she hesitated, "I lost track of time and Jonathan got annoyed so he banged on the door and complained. When I opened the door so he could take his turn, he tried to take my towel. When I wouldn't let him he tried to force me so I…well I…I kneed him between the legs."

Eddie grinned, "I would give pretty much anything to have seen the look on his face."

She finally looked up at him, annoyed. "It's not funny, Eddie."

He sighed, scratched his head and gave an awkward shrug. "I don't know what else to say. Dr. Crane is a lying, manipulative bastard who gets his kicks from torturing people with fear. Did you honestly think he'd take no for an answer?"

Persona looked at the T.V. and bit her lip. Eddie tried not to think of how childish and naïve the expression made her look. She sighed and shook her head, "It's not entirely his fault, you know. I've said and done things in the heat of the moment…" She balled up her fists and pressed them against her eyes. "I don't have a clue what I'm doing, Eddie. I don't understand what I'm feeling, or the right thing to say. All I know about relationships are bits and pieces I've gotten from my rare glimpses of T.V. and the advice Harley gave me."

Eddie winced, "First, don't ever take Harley's advice on relationships." He smiled as she chuckled softly. "Second, you really don't remember any past relationships?"

She shook her head slowly. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. On top of that the Messenger and his doctor were constantly warning me of the dangers of that kind of knowledge. I was afraid to learn more and felt guilty about wanting to."

"And then he sent you into an insane asylum to trick an evil genius psychiatrist into a trap. Gee, why didn't that plan work?"

She gave a sharp, bitter laugh. "Can't imagine."

Eddie finally flopped down onto the foot of the bed. For a long moment they just stared at the crappy T.V. in silence.

Edward finally spoke, "We could leave."

Persona frowned slightly, "And do what? Go where?"

He was silent. There were too many questions he needed answered before he could go back and he had no idea where else they could go or what else they could do…

"What the hell is that?" Persona scowled, pointing at the T.V.

He cocked his head to the side, but couldn't tell what was wrong. "Huh?"

"The blue bar with the white squiggles that moves at the bottom of the screen. There's already too many graphics and boxes and what have you going on, they don't need decorations to add more distractions." She crossed her arms in annoyance.

A sudden thought occurred to Eddie, "Are you illiterate?"

She glared at him, "Now where the hell did that come from?"

He held up his hands defensively. "Whoa calm down! I didn't mean to offend you, it's just that those white squiggles are words."

She stared at him for a moment, then leaned toward the T.V. and squinted. She got out of her chair and took a couple steps forward. Her eyes suddenly widened and she turned back to him. "You can actually read that from where you are?" Before he could answer she cut him off with a loud frustrated cry. "I've lost my memory, my identity and now I'm losing my sight! What's next? What the-"

She was cut off by the door slamming open. Edward jumped slightly and cursed in his head for not thinking of locking the door. Jonathan entered the room with narrowed eyes, glancing at Edward then at Persona. "What's going on?"

"We're just discussing how I'm going blind." She threw her arms up in the air in an almost comical show of frustration. She dropped back in the chair and wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her forehead on her knees.

Jonathan arched an eyebrow at Edward, who sighed. "She just realized that I could see the words scrolling at the bottom of the screen and she couldn't."

"Ah." He turned to her, "Is this a new development or have you noticed problems with your sight before?"

She didn't look up. "I thought it was normal. It didn't even occur to me that there was something wrong with it. Why would there be?"

"I highly doubt that you're going blind, Persona. You probably just need glasses, like I do." There was a slight hint of amusement in his voice now. He was enjoying her frustration as payback for her earlier rejection.

She peeked up, "Do you have an extra pair?"

Jonathan shook his head, a slight smirk on his face. "It doesn't work that way. You need a prescription to get glasses. Everyone's eyes are different. The prescription that helps me see will likely make your eyesight worse, not better."

"Can I try?"

He shrugged, took off his glasses and handed them to her. She put them on. "You weren't kidding, these things make it look like the room is melting." She handed them back to him.

Jonathan shrugged again as he put his glasses back on. "It probably doesn't help that these glasses are designed to fit a man's face."

"Funny, they seem to fit you just fine, doctor." Eddie grinned.

"Go to hell, Nigma."

"Lead the way, Crane."

Persona sighed and uncurled her legs, setting her feet on the floor. "If we don't start thinking of a plan, that just might be where we end up."

Jonathan glanced at her then back at Edward, who simply yawned and stretched. "Well? Have we been on the news?"

Eddie snorted, "Constantly."

Crane started pacing. "This isn't something that will just blow over."

Eddie turned off the T.V. "The Joker and Harley Quinn escaped from Batman. They'll all be looking for us. Maybe we should at least wait until Batman catches them and then we'll only have him and the police to contend with."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow; "The only reason I'm keeping you around is because the Joker has plans for you."

Eddie shrugged, "So you keep me around until a) Joker gets caught or b) Joker catches us. Either way your ass is covered and let's face it, we're all safer in a group."

"Are we far enough away from Gotham?" Persona looked to both men.

Jonathan shook his head, "If we're going to try dodging the Joker and the Bat? No we're not close to being far enough away. If you're both ready, I say we head out immediately."

Eddie walked to the window and opened the curtains to peak out. "Sounds good to…" He trailed off and frowned. "Your goons were supposed to take the van and leave us another car, weren't they?"

Jonathan scowled and moved to the window. "The van is still there?" His scowl deepened as he looked into the nearly empty parking lot. "They took the van but didn't leave us a different car? Those idiots! I'll kill them!"

"I guess we'll be ordering in for breakfast…" Despite the lightness of Persona's words there was an undertone of suspicion in her voice.

Eddie tightened his grip on the curtain. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"So do I." Jonathan ran his fingers through his hair. "Damn it! If I had more cash on me we could cab our way to Bludhaven and I could get access to one of my secret bank accounts…as it is we barely have enough for a decent breakfast."

Persona looked at Jonathan in confusion. "Can't you just call your goons and tell them to bring a car for us?"

Jonathan glared out the window. "If they haven't brought us a car already, I can be quite certain they are no longer 'my goons'"

"Tell me again how you found out where they were, Mistah J?"

Harley's fawning over his brilliance was beginning to grate on his nerves a little, but the Joker couldn't help basking in his own glory. "Well, Harley-girl, last night I called a couple guys who I knew could get rid of our car nice and quiet like. It occurred to me while talking with them that ol' Johnny would probably call them too, see he and I have both made quite a few enemies so there aren't many crooks we can a heh _rely on. _So I told 'em if they happened to hear from the Scarecrow to get rid of the van but not to replace it, then to let me know where they're staying."

Harley clapped her hands in delight. "Oh aren't they gonna be thrilled to see us comin' ta rescue 'em?"

Joker rolled his eyes. Apparently, Harley hadn't figured out that the others were most likely trying to _run away_ from them. While normally he'd delight in bursting the little twit's happy bubble, it was a long drive and he didn't wanna listen to her whine about her hurt feelings or something equally stupid. "Oh yeah, I'm sure they'll be, ah, _over the moon _when they see us."

Harley gave him a beaming smile and made a happy squeaking noise. God she was getting on his nerves. He tried to focus on his driving. Luckily no one seemed to be paying the car any attention; neither of them were in costume and the windows were tinted enough that someone would have to be right next to them to see his scars. He licked his lips, missing the taste of the make-up. One of the many reasons he was looking forward to getting to the motel where Scarecrow and his merry little band were holed up. Of course, before he changed into costume he'd have to smack the others around a bit, make sure they didn't try to bail on him. He'd give 'em the benefit of the doubt so to speak; it was possible that they drove so far because they were worried about getting chased by Batman or the Messenger. Still, a little slapping around of his dear friends would act as friendly reinforcement of why he was in charge of the group.

Harley's stomach growled. "Can we stop to grab somethin' to eat before we get there?"

Joker growled. "Do you hear me complaining Harl? Hmm? Did you see _me_ eat yet?" Out of the corner of his eye he noticed her wilt a bit. Time to turn up the guilt. "Here I am trying to find our poor, lost friends, who probably have no money, no food and no way to protect themselves and here you are thinkin' only about your stomach. Tsk tsk."

Harley looked thoroughly ashamed of herself. Good. Maybe she'd finally be quiet for a while. Silence stretched in the car for nearly an hour. He'd turned on the radio, called every song he heard crap then finally settled for a news channel.

"Mistah J?" Harley whimpered timidly.

She'd kept quiet long enough that he decided to humour her. "What?" OK so he wasn't overly friendly about humouring her, but still.

"Are we there yet?"

He glared at her with murder in his eyes. "Don't start. Don't you DARE start. I will stop this car, drag you out of it and carve you to pieces if you ask that question again."

Harley sniffled then puffed her chest out with forced pride. "No ya wouldn't. Who'd ya get to replace me?"

The Joker smirked. She just made it waaaayyy too easy. "Well I did have fun tying up our little Persona. Sure, she's flat as a board, but I'm more of a booty guy myself…and Persona?" He finished with a whistle.

Harley's pretty face twisted with rage and her voice came out choked and indignant. "She belongs to Johnny…or maybe Eddie, I don't know what's goin' on there but that's NOT THE POINT."

He sent her a look of condescending sympathy. "Maybe you're right…" He couldn't resist the leering grin that broke out as he spoke his next words. "Speaking of Eddie, I am looking forward to seeing him in that suit. Good thing we picked it up on the way, hmm?"

Harley looked at him confused by the sudden change in topic. Joker gave a low, seductive chuckle. "I'm really hoping with that broken leg of his, he'll need some help getting it on…if ya know what I mean."

Harley looked at him in shock, horror, anger and…Joker chuckled again…was that just a wee bit of excitement? Her face finally settled with 'shocked indignance' before she finally spoke. "Eddie. Is. A. MAN."

He burst into laughter, "I can see how you got your doctorate, Harley! You're soooooooooo perceptive!"

Harley crossed her arms and pouted. "Eddie was totally checking me out…and Persona. He likes ladies. And you?" She gave a haughty sniff. "Are NO lady!"

The Joker started laughing again. It was so easy to get her riled up. He glanced out the window and the laughter disappeared from his lips. The motel was finally in view.

Jonathan tried to distract himself from his hunger by reading through some of his notes. They would have to wait until lunch before they could eat, since no one delivered breakfast in this area. The small table he sat at as he worked was still in Nigma's room. While he found the sounds of the T.V. they were watching distracting, he didn't dare to leave the two of them alone. Persona had undoubtedly told the detective about their little…spat this morning, and it seemed the other man was keeping an even more watchful eye over her now. Jonathan scowled as he glanced over at them. Persona was sitting on the floor close to the T.V. and Edward sat on the foot of the bed. Jonathan had been trying to tune out their laughter and conversation so he could concentrate on his work, but looking at them, seeing how _chummy_ they were…Jonathan would be a fool to ignore the warning signs.

"Oh my God," Persona pointed to the T.V. "did that woman just admit she thought Europe was a country?"

Edward laughed again, shaking his head. "Even with amnesia you know better then that!"

Persona smiled proudly, "I may have been sheltered by the Messenger, but I was still allowed to read books, as long as he or the doctor approved them. I tried to read as much history and geography as I could, in case someone asked me about it while I was working at Arkham."

Edward nodded in approval. "Good call. I love reading too. Recently I started reading this book about the history of…"

Jonathan cut him off. "What are you watching?" Like hell he was going to let Nigma show off for her.

Persona looked up at him brightly. Was he forgiven then? He gave her a small smile and raised his eyebrows to show he was interested. "We're watching 'Family Feud'. Honestly, some of the answers people have come up with have been hilarious."

Edward grinned at her. "Personal favourite?"

She laughed, "So far? Name a country in Asia. One of the guys actually said 'Africa'. Can you believe it?"

Jonathan opened his mouth to respond when the door suddenly crashed open. He stood up quickly, his body instinctively tensing for a fight. The Joker, sans costume and make-up strode into the room, two suit bags slung over his shoulder. Harley followed behind him, struggling to carry several duffle bags. The Joker tossed his bags onto the bed then raised his arms.

"How are my favourite kids? Didya miss me?"

As soon as the van had gone missing, Jonathan had figured out it was the Joker's doing. The question now was whether he could get the clown to believe they'd left the city only to avoid Batman and the Messenger, and that it wasn't some kind of double cross. He took a step towards the Joker and smiled but before he could speak, the clown lunged at him, his fist slamming into Jonathan's jaw. He stumbled backwards and would've fallen had Persona not stood up and caught him.

The Joker grinned at them. "That, Scarecrow, was just a friendly reminder of who the leader is of this little group." The clown's face turned deadly serious. "But I'm sure you weren't _really_ trying to run out on us."

The Scarecrow's growl echoed through Jonathan's mind. His lips were a bloodied mess and he pressed his tongue against his teeth to make sure none were loose. He pulled away from Persona and stood on his own. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed her pick up his glasses from the floor.

He turned his full attention to the Joker. "Of course not. The Messenger made it clear last night that he was mostly after Persona and Nigma, now. I thought it best for your plans that I took them as far away from him and the Batman as possible. I figured you knew how to track us, or why would you have stayed behind in the first place?"

The Joker's eyes seemed to burn into his for a small eternity, but Jonathan stared right back, cool and calm. At last the Joker nodded. "Glad to hear it, Johnny."

"Now that we're all together, can we _please_ have breakfast Mistah J?"

The Joker gave Harley such a poisonous glare that she let out a tiny whimper. "What did we talk about in the car, Harley?"

Her eyes widened and she glanced from Persona to Edward before going back to Joker. Jonathan cocked his head to the side. Apparently he wasn't a part of whatever the Joker had threatened her with in the car. The Scarecrow snickered in the back of his mind, _Joker probably threatened to replace her with one of them…_Jonathan kept his face neutral but he was smirking on the inside. Scarecrow's scratchy voice continued, _I don't think Nigma would fill out her costume the same way..._The mental image was enough to force Jonathan to hide his grin by pretending to check his bleeding lips again.

"Now," Joker continued cheerfully, "I'll be happy to get everyone breakfast if you all promise to behave yourselves. But first," The Joker lifted the suit bags and held them up proudly, "Eddie and I have to get changed into our new outfits!"

"Not together!" Harley cried out.

_I was right!_ The Scarecrow laughed triumphantly. Jonathan struggled to contain his laughter, but one look at the horror on Nigma's face, the confusion on Persona's and the pure, sadistic amusement on the Joker's and Jonathan couldn't help laughing out loud. This, in turn, caused the Joker to start cackling.

"It's not FUNNY!" Harley stomped her foot down like a child which only set the Joker, Scarecrow and Jonathan off again.

Finally, they calmed down and the Joker handed Edward one of the suit bags. "You can change in the other room." He grinned lecherously, "But if you need _any _help, don't hesitate to call me."

Edward ignored the Joker's behaviour and hobbled out of the room. No sooner had he left then the Joker started unbuttoning his shirt. The Joker's exhibitionism was no doubt another way to grate on Harley's pathetic jealousy and by this point it was fairly easy to ignore.

Of course, Harley still fell for it. "Not in front of Persona and Johnny!"

Persona had clearly recovered from her earlier confusion and was now taking the Joker and Harley's antics in stride. She sat on the floor in front of the T.V. "Shh will you keep it down? It's the last round of 'Family Feud'!"

Not surprisingly, the Joker and Harley kept arguing. Jonathan sat beside Persona, keeping a comfortable distance between them. She glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow. "You haven't put your glasses back on."

He smirked, "And they'll stay off until the Joker puts on some pants."

'Family Feud' ended and an infomercial for a ridiculous looking home gym had just started when Edward Nigma returned to the room. Thankfully, the Joker had also finished dressing, but the clown's costume was nothing new, so all eyes turned to Nigma. Jonathan put his glasses back on. Even the Scarecrow had to admit that if costumes like what the Joker and Nigma wore became the expectation for criminals of their calibre, he'd have to wear something a little more elaborate than his burlap mask. Nigma's jacket was a rich emerald green colour with carefully stitched black velvet question marks. His pants and shirt were also black, which made the purple gloves and tie he wore stand out even more. The look was completed with a green domino mask and green hat with a black question mark on the front. It should've looked more ridiculous than the home gym, but somehow the quality of the cut, the material and the perfect fit made the look work.

Edward leaned on his cane casually and smirked. "OK, I'll admit that I don't entirely dislike it."

The Joker clapped his hands together. "Great! Now, there's a fun little diner I know not far from here…"

Detective Bullock looked across the desk at Commissioner Gordon and tried to let his brain absorb everything he'd heard. After a few more moments he tried to piece it all together out loud, hoping his own voice could somehow make it all make sense. "So we got a call from some middle of nowhere diner that was held hostage by our merry band of missing lunatics, who apparently demanded free breakfast to eat there and also free lunches to go. On top of our original group of crazies is a new guy, dressed in a green suit jacket with black question marks, a green hat and a green mask. Despite the mask the physical description makes it pretty clear the new guy is Ed- Detective Nashton. After they finish eating they leave. No casualties, although the diner and all its patrons were robbed. No sign of the group since. That about sum it up commish?"

Gordon sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Either Nashton's using this as an opportunity to go deeply undercover or…"

"He's gone Looney Tunes."

The commissioner nodded. Both men were silent for a long moment. "Bullock, we're in hot water here. With the Messenger caught, the Joker is bound to restart his battle with the Batman. Last time he put the entire city into a panic by himself, this time he has the help of Scarecrow and as much as I hate to say it, possibly three others. The mayor is breathing down my neck, the public is terrified, those who can afford to are evacuating, Police Chief Harris is understandably furious about Nashton's disappearance and…"

"What about Batman?"

Gordon frowned for a moment. "Officially, Batman is a criminal who needs to be stopped." A hint of a smile twitched at Gordon's lips. "Unofficially, he's working on it. I only he's having more success than we are."


End file.
